Under Good Regulation
by wardsarefunctioning
Summary: Following the events of the Conclave, Jane Trevelyan becomes the Herald of Andraste. Her sister Elizabeth, a mage, joins her at Haven shortly thereafter. Featuring Cullen as Mr. Bingley and Solas as Mr. Darcy.
1. Chapter 1

_"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride - where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." - Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen_

Elizabeth Trevelyan eyed her father over the top of her book of Orlesian poetry, wondering what he was so cheerful about. Lord Trevelyan often joined his wife and daughters in the parlor after dinner, but he rarely displayed such good humor while doing so. Even when the young servant, Doris, handed him a report on the fighting - which was, by all accounts, getting much too close for comfort - all he did was smile.

"I daresay Ferelden is officially the center of the war now. This war, anyhow." He turned to his wife with a gleam in his eye. "Out of the pot and into the fire, wouldn't you agree, my dear?" he asked.

"Oh Lord Trevelyan!" she said, shaking her head. "I don't know how you can make jokes at a time like this. Why did we ever come to Ferelden? If only you had listened to me, we'd still be safe in Ostwick. Instead we'll be murdered by templars or apostates or worse, _Orlesians,_ in the middle of nowhere." Elizabeth and her elder sister Jane shared an amused look.

"That isn't true, Mama," said Mary, the middle of the five daughters. "The real fighting won't come this far west for a while yet."

Lady Trevelyan scoffed. "Well, I don't believe a word of that."

"It's what Blackwall told me," Mary insisted.

Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest sisters, laughed. "Oh, Blackwall, of course!" Lydia exclaimed. "Tell me, Mary, when we're your bridesmaids, will we have to wear grey?"

"Hush," Elizabeth warned them. Recently, Mary had been training with a man called Blackwall, a Grey Warden recruiter. He was helping some of the younger people in town learn to fight, provided that they would consider joining the Wardens once he left. Like most things in life, Mary had thrown herself into the training completely, and most of her stories now revolved around Blackwall or Grey Warden history. She was as religious as she was serious, and Elizabeth had always assumed she would join the Templar Order one day, but that option was currently off the table.

"He says that the fighting is just as bad up in the Free Marches," Mary continued, after shooting a glare at her sisters.

"Do you think you could convince Blackwall to come stay at the house?" Lydia asked in a teasing tone. "I'd so like to meet him. And it would be fun to have our own guard, wouldn't it? Then we wouldn't have to worry about some templar coming to kill poor Lizzie."

Elizabeth snapped her book shut. "Poor Lizzie is sitting right here, and she is quite capable of defending herself," she said. She considered adding that most templars she knew would not kill an enchanter who wasn't even part of the rebellion, but the thought of discussing Circle politics with her family made her head ache. Instead, she turned to her mother. "Mama, I thought you were the one who wanted to move here in the first place." Lady Trevelyan's family was from Ferelden, and according to the letters Jane had written Elizabeth, she had insisted they leave Ostwick immediately after the disaster at Kirkwall, declaring the Free Marches no longer safe. Elizabeth joined them at Longbourn sometime later, after her own Circle fell and the war began in earnest.

"What nonsense!" Lady Trevelyan scoffed. "I would never suggest such a thing. I was determined to stay in Ostwick."

"Well, my dear," Lord Trevelyan said, "if that's the way you feel, I suppose we should give up our lease and return to Ostwick immediately. Packing up the place and saying our goodbyes should take- well, let's see. What would you say, Doris? Two weeks? Three?"

Elizabeth and Jane could tell he was teasing, but somehow, after nearly thirty years of marriage, their mother missed it completely and she flushed at being taken so seriously.

"Well!" she said, flustered. "I- That is to say, that seems rather hasty."

"No, no," Lord Trevelyan continued, "you are right. It is time that we return home." He gave another mock sigh, but was unable to keep his eyes from smiling when he glanced at Elizabeth. "What a shame it is that we will be so far away. I suppose we won't be able to send one of the girls to the Conclave after all."

Half of a second passed before anyone reacted. Even the eldest two were caught off guard. Then Lady Trevelyan shrieked happily, drowning out excited questions from Jane and Mary. Elizabeth, however, froze and remained silent.

"Our girls? The Conclave? Why Lord Trevelyan, you can't mean - " His wife was breathless.

"Ah yes, how careless. It must have slipped my mind!" he said. He began flipping through the letters in front of him. Finally he found a folded parchment and held it up to her. "Here we are. A note. The Chantry has asked us to send a representative from our family to Haven at our earliest convenience."

"Divine Justinia herself will be there!" Mary exclaimed.

"Chantry nonsense," Elizabeth heard Lydia mutter beside her.

"Oh girls!" said his wife as she grabbed the paper from his hand. "What excellent news! Why, think of all the important nobles who will be there!"

"Some of the not important ones, too, I imagine." Lord Trevelyan said wryly. "After all, we are invited."

She ignored his remark. "We must send Jane, of course. She is the eldest, and by far the prettiest." Their mother had always shown a preference for Jane and Lydia, the two girls who'd inherited her large blue eyes.

Lord Trevelyan's eyebrow twitched. "I did not realize that prettiness would be a factor. Why is that, my dear? Will the mages and Templars see Jane and be so overcome with admiration that the war will end?"

"Maker, Lord Trevelyan! Don't be silly. There will be all sorts of nobles there. I'm thinking of her meeting a husband, of course!"

"How ignorant of me," he agreed. "Of course the Divine's intent in organizing a war truce is Jane's marital status. Very well, if your only requirement is that the daughter we send be single, then I would prefer to send Lizzie."

"Lizzie!" her mother exclaimed. "But, Lord Trevelyan, you know as well as I do that she could never marry, and-"

Elizabeth had not yet moved, but she interrupted her mother before the conversation could go further. "I'm flattered, Father, but I'd prefer to stay at home."

Her parents looked surprised. "But wouldn't you know people from your Circle there?" her father asked.

Elizabeth paused before answering. "I'm not sure that they would be pleased to see me," she finally replied. Elizabeth had decided not to join the mage rebellion, instead returning to live with her family. While she'd been no fan of the state of the Circle, she found it difficult to support a cause so closely aligned with Kirkwall. Jane's eyes flashed sympathetically.

"Then Jane it is," their mother said triumphantly.

Lord Trevelyan's eyes were still lingering on Elizabeth, but after a moment, he faced his wife again. "As you wish. Though I suspect that Lizzie would have brought back a far more interesting report for me." He stood, taking the invitation and inserting it back into his book. "It seems, my lady, that we will have to put off returning to Ostwick until after the Conclave." He bid his daughters goodnight and left for his library.

Elizabeth frowned after him. Both Jane and Mary were silent, returning to their books, but she could see the warm smile on Jane's face, and the jealous pout on Mary's, who had not been considered by either parent, despite being the most religious of all the sisters. Another time, she may have tried to comfort Mary and congratulated Jane, but her mind was elsewhere. She stood and followed her father.

* * *

"Enter," his voice echoed from behind the door as she knocked. He looked pleased to see her. "Ah! Good evening again, Lizzie. Have you reconsidered? Jane will be upset, but I daresay she'll recover."

"No," she said. "I haven't." At times, it was difficult to remember that her family had not experienced the chaos that she did when the Circle fell. "Father… I do not think you should send any of us to the Conclave."

"What?" Her father's brow tightened, and he stood, placing his book on his desk. "Why not?"

"A gathering that large of templars and mages right now…" she shook her head. "What if tensions escalate? Violence could break out."

Her father scoffed at that. "What, in front of the Most Holy? No one would dare."

"This started at a chantry," she reminded him.

"A chantry in Kirkwall," he replied, speaking the last word as if the town's name had a bitter taste.

"Please, Father. I don't think it's safe."

His eyes softened and he sighed. "Lizzie, I know things must have been difficult for you in the Circle. But you aren't there anymore. And you can't let the fear they instilled in you take over. A girl like Jane needs to go out and meet people. This war has kept her at home too long. It will be good for her, you must know that."

"There must be somewhere else that-," she said.

He sat back down and opened his book again. "I'm afraid I've made my decision, Lizzie."

"Father, I-"

"This discussion is over. Goodnight."

She swallowed and left, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Later that evening, she slipped into Jane's room. As her sister greeted her, Elizabeth slipped under the covers for warmth, wondering if she should mention her concerns. If she revealed the extent of how she felt, Jane would stay home out of respect for her, and while she hated the thought of Jane alone in a room of mages and templars, she trusted in her sister's ability to make her own decision to go if she truly wanted to.

"Why do you even want to go?" she asked instead. Jane turned her head to face her sister and smiled.

"I would love to meet the Divine," she said. "You know how much I respect her. And it would be nice to be around other people for a change." Jane played with the end of her braid thoughtfully.

"And…?"

"And… I would like to meet some of them," she admitted slowly. "The mages and the templars, I mean."

Elizabeth gave a short laugh at that. "Denny and I left that good of an impression?" Denny Barris was Kitty's childhood friend who'd joined the Order.

"No, not like you two, you're both so reasonable," Jane explained. "You already defend both the templars and the mages, but you don't want to fight. And Denny was always so kind. I can't imagine him hurting a fly."

Elizabeth's mind flashed to the the kind templars she knew, and to their hard faces right before her Harrowing, but she decided not to speak of that. "So … you want to meet unreasonable mages and templars," she stated, confused.

"Well...," Jane hesitated. "I thought if I could just talk to them. Maybe get them to talk to each other… maybe tell them about you, and Denny, and…"

It clicked and Elizabeth burst out laughing. "Oh Jane. You want to go so you can personally end the war, all through the power of love and kindness."

Jane blushed furiously. "No! I mean… well… oh, it does sound rather ridiculous, doesn't it."

Elizabeth shook her head and hugged her sister. "It doesn't. Most people would say something like that to make themselves feel virtuous or powerful, but I know you too well to think that." She sighed, still holding her sister tightly. "You really put the rest of us to shame. They should make you Divine."

Jane shoved her, trying to look offended, but she couldn't hide her fond smile. "You're just like Father, you know," she said. They sat in silence for a few moments, Elizabeth on the verge of speaking, but finally she changed her mind. "I'll let you get some rest." She kissed her sister on the forehead and climbed out of bed. At the door she paused, but she decided her father was right. She should not let fear rule her life any longer.

* * *

Three weeks later, Lady Trevelyan clutched her handkerchief to her brow, shaking her head. "How could Jane do this to me?" she exclaimed, her voice breaking. "I told her not to go to the Conclave. I begged her! She refused to listen! And now she's dead. " Her chest shook with sobs.

Elizabeth grit her teeth. "We don't know that she's dead," she insisted

"Doris said 'no survivors'," Lydia said, her eyes wide and red. Kitty was behind her, weeping quietly. "And the explosion… that thing in the sky…"

"Doris wasn't at the Conclave, was she?" Elizabeth said firmly, while trying to ignore the eerie green sheen that colored the room. They had all felt the ground shake and heard the windows shudder when the Breach had appeared. "If there were no survivors, then how would we even know what happened in the first place?"

That thought quieted her younger sisters, but not her mother, who wailed again into her arm.

"Where is your father?" she exclaimed, lifting her head. "He should be here for me, that cruel, cruel man. This is as much his fault as hers! He wanted her to go."

"I don't know where he is," Elizabeth lied.

When her mother realized that her grief was not going to get her husband's attention, her wails began to cease. "I suppose we'll have to arrange a funeral," she said between her lingering sniffs. Her mother seemed to perk up at that thought, to Elizabeth's horror. "And I suppose no one would refuse an invitation. Even our cousins the Dalrymples would not dare…"

Elizabeth felt a ball of anger in her throat and swallowed it, burning her chest and stomach as she did. She stood and took a deep breath.

"Lydia, stay with Mama for a moment," she said and she left the room before her sister could reply.

* * *

She found her father on the stone bench by the river, as she knew she would. He was carving a stick into a point with a dagger and he paused, glancing sideways but not up at her. She could see the sorrow in his slumped posture.

"I'm sorry about Mama being… herself," she said.

Her father shook his head, not speaking.

"We still haven't heard for sure," she insisted. "Until she's found…"

"That could take months. Years," Lord Trevelyan replied in a low voice, staring at the sky. "The amount of destruction that this entailed…I find it difficult to believe anyone could survive that."

"We don't know that," she said, shaking her head. "We don't even know where she was for sure. Surely there were people in the villages, too." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Where? Haven? According to Doris, the place is being overrun by demons," he said, finally meeting her eyes. Elizabeth winced to see how aged he looked since the explosion that morning.

"Doris wasn't there, we don't truly know…" She gripped his shoulder more tightly.

"I should have listened to you," her father said suddenly, his voice breaking. "This is my fault."

"Don't say that," she insisted.

"You warned me…"

"Father," Elizabeth said softly. Something in the sky caught her eye. She saw a raven swooping towards them. It passed the river and glided lower, aiming for the house, near enough now for Elizabeth to see the note firmly tied to its leg.

Before she could even speak, she was running, following it. When it did land near the gate, she grabbed it, careful not to injure its wings. With trembling hands, she undid the note.

"Lizzie?" her father asked. He was right behind her.

Elizabeth did not reply, scanning the letter, and then she let out a startled laugh that sounded like a sob. For a moment she thought her legs would give out beneath her. "Jane's alive," she said. But she kept reading, her joy giving way to confusion. "But she's injured. And they… oh, Father!" She met his eyes, panicked. "Father, they think she's responsible!"

"What?" her father asked.

"She's a prisoner," she explained, her eyes returning to the letter. After a moment, she handed it to him. "I have to go to her."

"No," he said firmly. "I nearly lost Jane today. I can't risk you."

"She's wounded, unconscious, and surrounded by strangers." When her father opened his mouth to argue, she held up her hand and produced a small flame. "I'll go without your leave if I must. You won't be able to stop me." His lips thinned, but he didn't argue further.

"Go then," he said.

* * *

An hour later, Elizabeth was on her horse and making her way to Haven, her Circle staff strapped firmly on her back. She leaned down, urging the animal to move faster. Normally, the journey would take a week, as it had for Jane, and would require two stops to change horses. However, she used gentle healing magic to maintain a faster pace than usual, and planned to take a more direct, if less convenient, route.

Using her magic so freely felt strange. Lady Trevelyan and Mary were distrustful of mages, so she'd used it at little as possible at home. But with Jane in danger, she threw caution to the wind. At first the power flowed slowly, like a riverbed that had been dry too long, but soon the horse seemed to fly as he galloped towards the gaping hole in the sky.

Several hours later, she realized that she was very out of practice. The Veil seemed to tug at her, and not just because it was weakened. She was drinking from a well that could and would run dry if she let it, so she eased back. Immediately, the horse slowed, now constrained by the physical world, and she cursed. While she'd hoped to make the journey in two days on this road, she reconsidered now and concluded it would take at least three, perhaps four. The horse would need to rest, and she would need to allow her mana to replenish in the evenings. Disappointed, she pressed on.

On the second day, something strange happened and she heard another distant explosion. At first, she panicked, assuming that things had gotten worse, but then she realized her magic was flowing more easily and she chanced a glance up at the massive tear. The lightning had stopped and the swirling clouds looked less like a tempest, more gentle, like the rest of the sky. She breathed, not daring to feel relief. Even if it was safer here, that did not mean it was safer at Haven, and her mind was still on her sister.

On the fourth morning, she packed up her tent and bedroll and rejoiced to think that she would be at Haven within a few short hours. She only hoped that her sister was being treated fairly.

Or you could be too late, she told herself, feeling a distinct chill in the air. They may have executed her.

The thought caught her off guard, until a movement from the corner of her eye turned her head and she saw it. A Terror, and it had already spotted her. For a moment, she worried she was in the Fade, but then she remembered Doris saying that the Breach had brought demons with it.

It leaned down and shrieked at her. She twirled the staff and then slammed it down, drawing on her weakened mana to push fire at it. Though it tried to step away, its gangly legs were too slow and it burned, crying out in agony. She didn't relent, pushing harder and gritting her teeth as her mana whined at her, begging her to pull back. The demon leapt towards her and she was too slow to move away. She yelped, pain shooting through her cheek and chest where its talons hit her. She gripped her staff tighter and whacked its head, scrambling away when it toppled over. Swinging the staff towards it, she brought a new wave of fire, this one brighter than the last, and watched it twist in the blaze and then collapse. This time, it didn't get up and she took in a deep breath.

The fight scared off her stallion, and with her adrenaline no longer keeping her steady, the pain from her injuries was excruciating. She tried to reach out to him with her magic, but there was nothing left inside her, and she ended up limping around her camp in circles before she could finally find him. With a scratched voice, she spoke soothing words until he let her place her pack on his back and climb up herself. She did not even try to heal. When the horse broke into a trot, the pain doubled, so she reluctantly slowed him to a walk, slumping forward to support herself on his neck.

Those few short hours that she had estimated that morning became the whole day. At first, she was hopeful that her mana would refill, but the magnitude of her injuries seemed to cork it. She wondered, with a shudder, if she was subconsciously keeping herself alive.

As the light faded on the Frostbacks, she came upon the gates of Haven. All her thoughts sounded distant to her mind, but she recognized that she would not be able to get off the stallion. It was difficult to even sit up straight.

A guard was posted, and he looked over the wall, surprised. The guard called out to her; she tried to compose herself and reply, but all she could do was cough wetly.

"Stefan!" the guard cried, turning his head back to someone Elizabeth couldn't see. "Get the Seeker!" Then his head disappeared from view.

How long the Seeker took to arrive, Elizabeth could not say. Her mind was impaired, but she still knew who it must be-the Right Hand of the late Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker of Truth and, according to the letter, the person who had imprisoned her sister.

The gate eventually groaned open and a figure strode out with a firm hand on her pommel but her sword sheathed, much to Elizabeth's relief.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded in a heavy accent.

She composed herself as much as possible. "Elizabeth Trevelyan," she managed to say. The woman relaxed slightly when she heard her family name. She was followed by the first guard, who carried a torch in his hand, and she heard his sharp intake of breath when the light fell on her bloody tunic. "You have my…" Elizabeth began, but the effort to talk weakened her, and she felt herself slip from the horse.

The ground was frozen solid and provided a sharp reminder exactly where and how deep her injuries were. Darkness swirled at the edge of her eyes. Stupid girl, she thought to herself. It would do Jane no good if she were dead. She heard the Right Hand barking orders and after a short time, felt herself being lifted by strong arms. Dazed, she opened her eyes to see a human man with a beard looking down at her with concern.

"Take her to the Herald's hut," she heard someone say. Herald? she wondered vaguely. The hole in sky was very close here and she focused on it, trying to keep herself from passing out.

A door opened, and then she was inside.

"What is it?" a new voice said. The chest she was pressed against rumbled in response and she was placed on the floor, on a carpet. Her last name was spoken at least once, and then a new face appeared above her, an elven man with cold blue eyes. He knelt to touch her, and then she felt the reassuring pressure of healing magic surround her. It was cold, like fresh mountain water. She closed her eyes. The healing magic was followed by a brush against her mana.

"You're a mage," she heard the voice say with some surprise. She opened her eyes again to see the blue eyes looking at her with confusion. "Do you not have any healing skills?" She couldn't reply. He turned to the other man and said something.

She struggled to speak but choked. He brushed her empty mana again and understanding came to his eyes.

"Ah," he said, his tone disappointed.

"My… sister," she was able to choke out. "Jane."

The bearded man stepped into view.

"She's going to be alright," the other man said. All the tension in her left. With a laugh touching her lips, she finally let the darkness overtake her.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth awoke to shouting. It took her a moment to piece together bits of memory, but then she recognized her surroundings. She was in the hut at Haven, the one that someone had called the Herald's hut. There was gold light coming in from the windows now, and someone had placed her on the bed, next to -

She turned her head sharply and breathed a deep sigh of relief at the sight of Jane. Her sister was still unconscious, but the pink of her cheeks and the steady rising of her chest were good signs. Not to mention the lack of chains, she thought. Either the Chantry treated suspected terrorists with an unreasonable amount of kindness, or her sister was no longer under suspicion.

Gingerly, she placed her feet on the floor, touching her chest and her cheek as she did. She could barely feel pain from her injuries, though the lingering effects of a healing potion and some sort of strong sedative made her head hurt a little, and the shouting outside didn't help. How much time has passed? she wondered. Looking down, she saw she was no longer wearing her tunic. Instead, she wore a silk leisure outfit, something a noble person might wear around the house when they weren't expecting important guests.

The shouting ceased, and a moment later, the door to the hut opened. Two figures she did not recognize entered: A bearded man muttering curses under his breath, and a dwarf with copper hair and a crossbow in hand. They both stopped in surprise when they saw her.

"Good to see you're awake," the bearded man said.

"Sorry you had to hear all that," the dwarf added. "I'm pretty sure that's the last of them. The rest left for Val Royeaux this morning."

Elizabeth swallowed the dryness in her throat. "I actually didn't hear anything specific," she said. "Just loud words." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to think more clearly. "What exactly is going on?"

"Some men were trying to kill the Herald," the bearded man explained. "But don't worry, they're not welcome in the Inquisition. The Seeker made that clear enough."

Elizabeth wasn't sure if the sedative they gave her was stronger than she thought, or if she was missing context. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she finally admitted. "The Herald? The Inquisition?"

"Yeah, we should probably start at the beginning," the dwarf said, putting the crossbow on his back. "I'm Varric. This is Adan. Welcome back to the land of the living. Adan here is an apothecary, and also the main reason you and your sister are still breathing. Well," he added, quickly, "one of two reasons. I'll introduce you to the other one later."

"In that case, you have my thanks," she said, standing unsteadily.

Varric noticed. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"A little groggy, but all things considered, tolerably well," she said. Her stomach grumbled. "Maybe a little hungry."

"Then how about I fill you in about what's been going on over dinner? And maybe some ale?" He turned to the other man. "Wait. Does anything you gave her react badly to beer?"

"No," Adan said. "Frankly, it might help. We're, ah, low on elfroot."

"Apothecary's orders," she said with a shrug. Varric grinned as he led her from the hut.

* * *

Haven was small and reminded her of Longbourn village in some ways, now that she saw it in the fading sunlight. Thanks to the Conclave, though, it was stuffed to the brim with people. Not just people, Elizabeth noted, but people staring at her.

"Is that her?" a woman asked breathlessly to her side. "Is that the Herald of Andraste?"

"Maker, no, that's just her sister," a man replied.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed.

It was not the only conversation that Elizabeth heard of that nature. By the time they entered the tavern, she had a thousand questions. She was relieved to see it empty, with only a bard and a bartender in sight. The bartender's eyes widened when she saw Elizabeth's face.

"It's her sister, Flissa," Varric said.

To her credit, Flissa did not look disappointed. "Still, it's an honor. First drink is on the house, my lady," she said.

"Are you serious?" Varric asked, crossing his arms. "I was actually there when the Herald closed that rift, you know, and I've had to pay for all my drinks."

"Running up a tab is not the same as paying, Varric," Flissa replied with a small smile.

"I have the money, just not on me," he said. "But, hey, speaking of my tab. Can we get some supper and a pitcher of ale?" Flissa made an annoyed sound, but she turned around, apparently preparing the requested items. He faced Elizabeth. "Turns out being imprisoned is detrimental to your wallet."

"You were a prisoner?" she asked, interested. "Were you at the Conclave? With my sister?"

"No," he replied, grabbing them a table by the fireplace. Elizabeth sat across from him. "At least, I wasn't there when… it happened. Your sister is the only person alive with that distinction."

Fortunately, Varric was a natural storyteller, and Elizabeth didn't have to ask her questions for him to launch into the tale. Divine Justinia had been planning to start an Inquisition to stop the war, but obviously, things had not gone according to plan. The Right and Left Hands of the Divine were still going to launch the organization, this time to with the intent to close the Breach and find whoever was responsible for it in the first place. After the explosion, a group of soldiers went up to see the damage, and while they were approaching, Jane fell through the Breach. A woman appeared behind her. Some people thought this might be Andraste herself, saving Jane's life.

"Ah," Elizabeth said, nodding. "Hence this whole Herald of Andraste thing."

"Well… partly. There's more," Varric said. Flissa came by at this point and placed two bowls of druffalo stew in front of them, as well as two mugs and a pitcher. They thanked her and she left before Varric continued. "Did you notice the glowing scar on your sister's hand?"

"I- no," Elizabeth replied, confused. "Sorry, did you say glowing scar?"

"Yeah," Varric sighed, uneasily. He told her about how, at first, they thought it was a weapon-which is how she ended up a suspect-but the apostate who helped heal her had theorized that it could seal the Breach. Two days ago, Jane woke up briefly and Cassandra put that theory to the test.

"Right after she woke up?" Elizabeth interrupted, outraged. She dropped her spoon into her stew. "That could have killed her!"

"You weren't here," Varric said. "There were demons everywhere. If we waited, she might have died anyway. And it worked - well, sort of. The Breach is stable now. Chuckles thinks that if we get enough mages to support her, she might be able to seal it for good."

Elizabeth had just retrieved her spoon and taken another bite, so she paused to chew before speaking. "So what was all the shouting about?"

Varric shrugged. "Not everyone is thrilled that your sister is being lauded as some sort of religious figure. There was a pretty vocal group that wanted to cart her off to Val Royeaux for a trial. Or an execution." He winced. "Or just, you know, kill her right here."

"People still think she did it," she stated.

"No one at Haven, not anymore," he said. "You heard the last of them, and Cullen personally kicked those guys out afterwards. Unfortunately, outside these walls? Yeah. The Chantry believes she's involved and has denounced the Inquisition."

"So what you're saying is that we have no Chantry support, the Breach to seal, and need to ask the rebel mages, of all people, for help," Elizabeth said. "And Jane is irrevocably tied up in all of this."

"That's about right, yeah," he said.

"Lovely," she sighed as she took a deep swig of ale.

* * *

After they finished eating, Varric offered to show her around the village and introduce her to everyone, but with a full stomach of stew and ale, the grogginess had become sleepiness, and she declined with a yawn. He pointed her in the direction of Adan's hut as she left, suggesting she pick up medicinal supplies before returning to her hut.

Adan wasn't in his hut. She decided to grab a potion anyway and was in the process of rifling through his shelf for bottles when she heard voices outside. At first she couldn't make out anything, but she recognized the speakers as Lady Cassandra and the elven mage who'd healed her the night before - an apostate named Solas, Varric had said.

"- appreciate that you stayed, and I will do what's in my power to protect you. But you should know that I would not hold it against you if you left," Cassandra was saying.

"I understand," Solas said. "And I will stay. At least until the Herald wakes."

"You realize I'm saying-" she began.

"You're saying that I could end up in a Circle," he interrupted. "Yes. Fortunately for me, the Grand Enchanter has made that an impossibility for now. If and when the Circles are re-established, I'll reconsider. In the meantime, I am here of my own volition."

"Then... thank you," Cassandra said. After a moment, she added, "Varric told me the sister is awake. You must be pleased that she is here, at least."

There was a pause. "And why would I be pleased?" Solas asked, genuine confusion in his voice.

"Because she is a mage," she said. "Leliana told me that you have been asking to take one along for when we visit Mother Giselle, but that she cannot spare them. With the sister -"

He let out a breath that could have been a laugh. "Oh. I did not mean a Circle mage without any notable training or talent."

Elizabeth's jaw clenched.

"If her lack of training is the main concern, surely you could train her," Cassandra suggested. "The Herald is not a skilled warrior, but she has promise and the Commander has agreed to instruct her."

"No," Solas said, firmly. "The sister shows no promise. And from what I saw of her arrival, she has as little judgment as she does power. Even if she could be trained, I'm afraid she would do as much harm as good." There was the sound of a door opening.

"I see," the woman replied.

"I will see you tomorrow, Seeker," he said. "Good night."

"Good night," she replied. A door shut, and Cassandra's receding footsteps crunched in the snow.

Elizabeth stayed perfectly still for a minute, concerned she would be caught by one or the other, but all she could hear was the wildlife of the Frostbacks and the distant sound of villagers chatting. She finally made her way to the door and slipped through, foregoing the potions entirely. Adan could bring them to her in the morning.

Her face still felt warm in the freezing air as she considered what she had overheard. Elizabeth had never found her magic anything to boast about-few mages in this part of Thedas would-but it was still a slap in the face to be considered so inadequate. True, the enchanters at her Circle had sometimes criticized her, but mainly for her method of learning new spells. She had a tendency to try and replicate spells through observation rather than learn them through research and reading, a lazy and disorderly habit she'd picked up early on. But Solas couldn't know about that particular flaw at this point.

It was ridiculous, she decided. He was probably proud to be an apostate and looked down on Circle mages as a rule. That he found her fatigued at the end of a particularly arduous journey should have been expected, not presented as an overall critique of her ability. The nerve of some people, she told herself as she entered her hut.

Jane was still asleep, and despite the adrenaline that her eavesdropping had produced, the sight of the bed looked appealing. There were some sleeping elixirs laid out neatly on the desk, and she hoped that they would be strong enough to make up for the lack of a healing potion. She downed one, crawled beneath the sheets next to her sister, and was asleep within moments.

In the morning, she woke to find the other side of the bed empty. A wave of panic swept over her and she stumbled out of bed, her chest injury throbbing slightly with the effort. A folded piece of paper with her name on it was propped on the desk, and she relaxed slightly when she recognized Jane's handwriting.

 _Lizzie,_

 _I can't begin to tell you how happy I was to wake up this morning and see you! I would never have asked you to come, but I admit that I'm relieved you're here. I am sorry to leave you alone so soon. Lady Cassandra Pentaghast is here and she requested I meet her at the Chantry as soon as possible. I didn't want to wake you._

 _Love, Jane_

Elizabeth smiled. Her sister was awake and sounded like herself. She folded the letter and put it back on the desk, and then looked around, considering what she should do while she waited. For a moment, she was torn between staying in the cabin and going out to find Varric. The village was small enough that Jane would be able to track her down once her business with Cassandra was over, after all.

Then she realized that neither she nor her sister had written to her family yet. Bent on that task, she sat down and began to write to her father, assuring him that they were both alive and would remain in Haven for the time being. After hearing Solas so casually dismiss her last night, she wasn't sure whether she would be a welcome addition to the Inquisition, but she suspected there were certain benefits to being the Herald's sister, if the townspeople's reaction was accurate. And Jane would not want her to go home. Perhaps she could even find ways to help around the village.

With the letter done, she left the hut and asked around until she found someone who could send a message. She gave them the letter.

Varric was difficult to find; it was too early for the tavern, and there was only a group of Chantry sisters near the open fire that she'd found him near the evening before. An idea occurred to her, and she headed to Adan's hut. He was there this time, hanging a few herbs to dry.

"My lady," he greeted her when she entered. "You're looking well. I hear the Herald is up and about."

"She is," Elizabeth said with a nod. "Thank you again."

"What can I help you with?" he asked. "Sorry to say we're still low on healing potions."

"Actually, I'm hoping I can help you." Elizabeth eyed the potion tables. "At the Circle, we were assigned tasks," she told him. She reconsidered the phrasing. "Hobbies, really. Sometimes they were useful for daily life, but the real purpose was to keep our hands busy. As if we would all run off and start practicing blood magic if left to our own devices."

"I'm sure that fear doubled after Kirkwall, thanks to Varric," he replied with a shake of his head.

She was confused for a moment. "Varric? What do you mean?"

"Oh," he said. "Varric wrote a book about it. About Kirkwall, I mean. He was there, and-"

"Oh! Varric is Varric Tethras ," she realized out loud. Of course. It fit with his disposition, his manner of speaking, his ability at storytelling. And his name. She mentally slapped herself. If she had not been drugged and injured so recently, she would have realized it last night.

"Yes. I imagine his book didn't calm down any templars," he said. "Or mages, for that matter."

"You'd be surprised." The book had made an impact on her Circle, but not one as negative as the apothecary assumed. She picked up a potion and looked at it carefully before continuing. "One of my hobbies was studying plants. I was wondering if there was any way that could be useful to the Inquisition?"

"You were an herbalist?" Adan asked, now looking at her with interest. She nodded. "Well, uh, yes, that would be helpful. I could spend more time here instead of scouring the fields. All I have right now is a scout who doesn't know plants from shit - I mean, ah, from-" He grimaced and shook his head. "Maker."

She laughed. "No need to apologize, Adan. The Trevelyans may be in Ferelden right now, but we're from the Free Marches. My late grandfather said worse to me when I was a child." She put the potion back on the shelf. "If you give me a list of what you need, I will see what I can do to procure it. I believe you said something about elfroot?"

"Yes," he said eagerly. "Honestly, anything you can find. Although-" he paused, looking her over. "I don't want you putting yourself in any danger. There are wolves in these woods."

"I can defend myself," she replied. He looked doubtful, and she realized with annoyance that he'd spent two days healing her with Solas by his side. She crossed her arms. "Yes, true, I did not do so well against a Terror by myself, after four days of eating little more than dried meat and berries, but I assure you I'm not inept."

"A Terror?" he asked, surprised, and then he looked grim. "Of course. I should have known it was a demon. We thought maybe a deepstalker got to you." He held up his hands. "You'll get no more grief about it from me. And thank you for the help."

She bid him farewell and turned to leave.

"Oh," he said. When she faced him, he continued. "What were your other hobbies at the Circle?"

"I played the lute," she said. "I was also considered a fairly good seamstress. Not exactly the sort of thing you need when establishing an army."

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. If you find the time, head down to Harritt. He's the smith. A good man. Being a seamstress might help you make armor."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to contradict him, but reconsidered. Frankly, the more ways to be useful to the Inquisition, the better. "Thank you for the suggestion, Adan," she said with a smile.

With that done, she checked the fire again and saw that her copper-haired friend had returned.

"Hey! Glad to see you're awake," he said, cheerfully.

"So you're Varric Tethras," she replied. "I apologize for not catching that last night. I'm a huge fan."

He looked pleased. " _Hard in Hightown? Tale of the Champion?_ " he asked. "Probably not _Swords & Shields,_ but I'm not picky about good reviews."

" _Tale of the Champion_ , mainly. Everyone in my Circle loved it," she said. She lowered her voice. "Despite the fact that it was banned."

"Banned! You're kidding!" Varric looked absolutely delighted.

"No, of course not. Blood magic. Crazed templars. A mage willingly becoming an abomination. A mage heroine, falling for said abomination. But don't worry, it was popular among all members of the Circle. In fact, the only reason I don't have a copy for you to sign is because I loaned mine to a templar right before the Circle fell."

"Really?" Varric asked.

"Yes," she replied. " And she'd already read it twice. Her original copy was confiscated by the Knight-Commander."

"This is the best thing I've heard all week," Varric laughed before glancing at the Breach and sobering. "And, uh, not just because it's been a shitty week."

Before she could reply, the doors of the chantry opened. Cassandra and a woman who Elizabeth guessed was the Left Hand of the Divine walked out, followed by Jane.

"Jane!" she said under her breath. She ran up the stairs that led to the chantry and flung herself at her sister so swiftly that it made Jane laugh.

"Lizzie," she replied quietly, her eyes shining. While her manner was less exuberant, Elizabeth knew it was every bit as heartfelt. The sisters looked at each other, at a loss for words. There were too many things to discuss and too many people around. Finally, Jane stepped back, and beckoned her sister to the other two women. "Lizzie, I'd like you to meet Cassandra Pentaghast, the Right Hand of the Divine, and Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine. Cassandra, Leliana, this is my sister, Elizabeth Trevelyan."

"We met briefly," Cassandra said with a slight incline of her head. "I doubt you remember much of it, though."

"I remember enough to know that I'm in your debt," Elizabeth replied. She turned to Leliana. "And I can't begin to express how thankful I am for your letter."

"Of course," Leliana said, shaking her hand, "though perhaps if I had known the reaction would be so intense, I would have been less forthcoming with the… particular details."

"Well, I'm here now," she said, and before Cassandra could suggest sending her away, she added, "and I hope I'm welcome to stay at Haven for the time being. I already spoke to Adan and he said my help with obtaining herbs would be useful for his work. If you think I'm going to leave Jane's side for an instant-"

"Lizzie," Jane said, turning back to face her sister. Her voice lowered. "They're sending me to the Crossroads. There's a Chantry mother who is willing to speak with us. I know what you'll say, but-"

"The Crossroads?" Elizabeth replied. "But that's where most of the fighting is."

"I know," Jane repeated. "But we can't miss this opportunity. If we could just get the Chantry to listen to us, we may be able to convince the mages or the templars to help us."

There was a pause as Elizabeth thought about sending her sister into danger, alone, with strangers, and so soon after the Conclave. That was impossible. She straightened. "Well, I suppose there are herbs there, too. Wouldn't you agree, Herald of Andraste?" Cassandra's lips thinned, but Jane's smile widened.

"Of course. You're very welcome to come along," her sister replied.


	3. Chapter 3

It was decided that they would leave for the Hinterlands in one week's time. The intervening days were dedicated to preparing for the journey. Thanks to her new religious title, Jane's recovery and training were the Inquisition's highest priorities, and as much as Elizabeth detested letting Jane out of her sight, she ended up passing most of the day alone. She found herself wandering the woods for herbs, building up her magic's strength, and learning to build armor with Harritt.

The smith was grateful for the help. He was a practical man with a rough demeanor, and an excellent teacher.

"Frankly, there's not much sewing and this have in common," he told her during their first lesson. "But being good with your hands is important, and we have more soldiers to outfit than smiths to outfit them."

By her third day, she had finished a pair of not-quite-symmetrical gloves for herself, the left one a little too tight and the right one a little too loose. Harritt assured her that the leather would adjust to her hands, and was pleased enough with her work that he suggested she add weapon making to her schedule when she returned. "You seem a quick enough learner. We're understaffed and it's not like we need the Sulevin Blade for every soldier around here."

"I'd be happy to help," she replied.

That evening, Varric made good on his promise and introduced her to Solas, who was as cold and arrogant as she had expected. When she told him that she would be joining them in the Hinterlands, a flicker of disapproval passed over his face. No matter how many times she reminded herself that she and Jane were in his debt, she could not quite raise her opinion of him. Fortunately, once she had profusely thanked him on both accounts, he seemed to consider the matter at an end, and acted as disinterested in striking up an acquaintance as she was. Besides nodding at each other when they passed, they did not interact.

* * *

The night before they left, as Elizabeth wrote a second, more detailed letter to their father in their hut, Jane appeared beside her. Elizabeth noticed she was fidgeting with her braid and looked up.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Lizzie, do you-," Jane began. She paused. "What do you think of the Commander?"

Elizabeth knew her sister well enough that this was all it took for an astonished smile to spread over her face.

"It's not like that!" Jane insisted, blushing in a way that made Elizabeth think it very much was like that.

"He's a good man," she said.

"He is," Jane agreed.

"And handsome, too," Elizabeth said.

Jane's blush deepened. "He's very good at what he does, but still kind."

Elizabeth had not spoken to him much, but what she had seen supported her sister's opinion. She'd particularly noticed because he was so different than the man Varric had portrayed in his book. Then again, she assumed that Varric had exaggerated quite a few things about Kirkwall.

She put her quill down, unable to keep the grin off her face. "Then I give you my full permission to fall in love."

"Don't tease me, Lizzie. I've only known him a week," Jane said, exasperated. "You're so much like Father sometimes!"

"Given our choice of role models, I'll take that as a compliment," she replied. "But when did this start? You have to tell me everything!"

"There's nothing to tell," Jane said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "He's quiet when he's not talking about the troops. I mean, he's training me in fighting, of course."

"That must produce some conversation."

Jane shook her head. "Less than you would think. It was easier at first, before I- before…"

"Before you started liking him," Elizabeth supplied helpfully, and she nodded. "Have you flirted with him? Has he flirted with you ?"

"Not really," she said. "Yesterday, I made a joke, and his smile lingered in a way that made me think- well, I don't know. And afterwards, he seemed flustered."

"Flustered how?"

Jane looked down and twirled her braid. "His cheeks were red and he stammered a little."

"Oh, Jane, he's already half in love with you!" Elizabeth exclaimed at this.

Her sister scoffed. "That's impossible."

"It's impossible that he's not," she said. She joined her sister on the bed.

"You said that about Lord Musgrove last summer," Jane accused.

Elizabeth threw her hands up. "How was I supposed to predict that he preferred men? And besides, you two became intimate friends, didn't you? If he could have fallen in love with you, I still believe he would have." She grabbed her sister's hand. "Jane, you need to try and flirt with him."

"You know I can't!" Jane exclaimed, aghast.

"Just try," Elizabeth replied. "For me?"

"I'm not very good at it."

"He doesn't need to be charmed if he's stammering at you already," Elizabeth argued. "All he needs is encouragement."

Jane sighed, and then laughed lightly. "The world is ending, and here I am, fretting over how a man feels about me." She shook her head. "I have the worst timing."

"One, the world is not ending, because you're going to save it," Elizabeth said, "And two, this is the perfect time for love. You need comfort and support and to be cared for. Not to mention the pleasure seeing you in love would bring me ." She looked at her sister intently, and finally Jane relented.

"Fine, I will try to flirt with him."

"That's all I ask," Elizabeth said, satisfied she had made her point. She turned back to her desk. "Now help me with this letter to Father. I want him to tell Mother that we joined something ridiculous, but I can't decide what. The Qun? The Imperium?" she said. She tapped her quill twice. "Maybe I'll say we've become Dalish…"

"You're terrible," Jane said with a giggle, climbing into bed.

* * *

In the morning, Elizabeth went to Leliana's tent. Early on, the spymaster had been able to produce a record of the noblemen and Chantry members who'd died at the Conclave, as they required invitations to enter the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The templars and mages, however, were invited by the Divine en masse . Besides a few important names from either faction, no one in the Inquisition had been able to establish who was and wasn't there, and unfortunately, neither organization seemed eager to help provide names. "We believe they are concerned that one of their own will be implicated," Cassandra explained when Elizabeth asked why.

As information trickled in, Leliana kept a running list of confirmed names for the two groups in her tent, and Elizabeth tended to linger whenever she saw that new entries had been added. Her decision not to join the rebellion had severed many ties between her and the other mages in her Circle, so she had very little current information about them, and that doubled for the templars she knew.

Elizabeth was not the only one who sought out the list regularly; she often saw Cullen leaving as she was entering, or vice versa.

On that particular morning, two new names were familiar to her: A couple of enchanters from Ostwick. Neither of them were close friends, and she had suspected that they would be at the Conclave, since they had both been Libertarians, but seeing their names in ink still affected her. She was overcome enough to close her eyes while she gathered her thoughts.

"Someone you knew?" a voice asked from behind her, and she turned to see the Commander.

"Yes, two people from my Circle," she replied. "And you?"

"There've been a few," he admitted. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. "I hear you'll be leaving soon. May I walk you to the stables?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. As they set off, she asked, "You don't think they did it, do you? The mages or the templars I mean."

"No," Cullen said, shaking his head. "Far too many lives were lost on both sides. Whoever did this used the chaos of the war to further their own ends- to what, I cannot say." He sighed. "I had hoped reasonable people would prevail at the Conclave."

"Yes," she agreed sadly, "but they may not have, even without the explosion. The war has made some reasonable people I know do terrible things."

"That much is true," Cullen muttered. They were nearing the horses where Cassandra and Jane were waiting and he looked over towards them with a pained expression on his face.

"Cullen," Elizabeth said, softly. "I'll bring her back safely. I promise."

Cullen looked startled and then flushed. "Uh, I…" he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes. See that you do. Lady Trevelyan is very important." His flush deepened. "To the Inquisition, I mean. And to you, I'm sure." He nodded to her and walked toward her sister to bid her farewell.

Her mind was still preoccupied, but she couldn't help a small smile from touching her lips. It seemed that she had been correct in her estimation of the Commander's feelings. With bittersweet emotions-and a little difficulty-Elizabeth pulled on her new gloves and mounted her horse.

* * *

The first leg of their journey went quickly. The Frostbacks were barren, but in a beautiful sort of way, and Elizabeth was able to explore a little with the excuse of looking for herbs. Varric scouted ahead, joining them at midday and in the evenings, and guided them around hostile Avvar holds and bandits. After a few days, they began to see civilization, and with civilization came evidence of combat. They had not yet reached the Hinterlands, but the instability of the war spread beyond the touch of the mages and the templars.

At one point, they passed just twenty miles south of Longbourn, and Jane remarked to her sister that they should visit on their way back.

The look Elizabeth gave her sister could have forged steel.

"I am not sure this would be a good time for you to visit home, Herald," Cassandra said from a few feet ahead. "There is still much work to do, and the sight of your mother may make you homesick."

Elizabeth snorted. When she glanced up, she sobered under the glare of the Seeker. "Sorry. You just clearly haven't met Mama."

* * *

As they neared the Crossroads, they rode through villages that were empty, or even entirely destroyed. With abandoned villages, of course, came the men who scared the villagers off. Varric's reports contained more and more bandit camps to avoid. For several days, they were successful in doing so, but they couldn't stay lucky forever. One day's ride from Scout Harding's camp, they were ambushed.

"Bandits!" Cassandra cried out when the first arrow neatly caught Jane's horse in the neck.

Elizabeth leapt down from her horse, a few yards behind her sister, staff in hand. Before she could even turn, she felt the chill of Solas' now familiar magic pass her. Without thinking, she raised her mana to her eyes and she saw the world glow. Now she could see the barrier that Solas had placed on Jane. Unlike the dome-shaped barriers she'd been taught at the Circle, this one clung to her sister like fabric, effectively following her movements for several moments before beginning to melt. An arrow bounced harmlessly off Jane's side. Neat trick, she thought, impressed despite herself.

Jane's training with the Commander showed, and she quickly fended off an attacker, but it was Lady Cassandra who demanded Elizabeth's attention. The woman was a force of nature. As Elizabeth pooled her mana in one hand and held her attack with her staff in the other, she saw Cassandra slice through three bandits almost instantaneously. With a tug of the Veil, Elizabeth ignited the magic in her palm and shot fire forward, sending another bandit tumbling backwards into her sister's sword. She stepped back several feet as she did so, arranging herself so she could watch Solas as he laid another barrier, this one on Cassandra. She held her fire steady on the bandit as she studied the glow of Solas's movements, her eyes following the Veil as it followed him.

A movement in the corner of her eye alerted her to a fifth bandit, a woman rushing at her sister from behind. There wasn't enough time to call out. Praying to the Maker that she had seen enough, she tried to replicate his spell. With a clumsy thud, it landed right before the attack. Her barrier was nowhere near as strong as his, and it melted into the air much faster, but it was enough to throw back the bandit's sword. Solas saw it, and he glanced back at her with an alarmed expression. The distraction almost allowed a sixth man's sword to lace his arm, but with surprising agility, he Fade-stepped away and then hit the man with a wall of ice.

When she looked back, the bandits lay dead, Cassandra was examining an injury on her leg, and Jane was looking a little pale. Elizabeth strapped her staff to her back and went to speak with her sister, only to feel someone grab her arm. She looked up at Solas, surprised.

"What was that?" he asked. The alarm had not left his face.

"A bandit attack," she replied coolly.

Solas's jaw clenched. "No. Where did you learn that barrier spell?" he said.

Elizabeth dropped her eyes for a moment before looking back up. She told him the truth. "I copied yours. Is that a problem?"

Solas let go of her arm, but continued to stare at her, his eyes dark. She opened her mouth, an explanation on her tongue, and then closed it again.

She had hoped that an apostate would not care so much about the unusual way that she practiced magic. Over the years, people had warned her about the irresponsibility of replicating spells on sight, but they'd all been in the Circle. It had almost prevented her from becoming an enchanter at all. Magic was meant to be studied, the senior enchanters had all claimed; it was to be taught and researched by people much more experienced than her. Using her magic to watch how another interacted with the Veil was lazy, and even dangerous. It required pushing her mana close to the Veil, and that left her vulnerable to demons.

She had received the lecture often enough to recite it from memory and did not want to hear it from Solas. Especially since she doubted the Seeker or the former templar back at Haven would approve.

"I know, it's not by the book," she said in a lower voice, folding her arms. "I'll try not to do it in the future. Please, don't tell Cassandra."

His eyebrows drew together and the expression on his face relaxed into confusion. "I was not planning to."

"Good," she said, and she stepped around him and went to Jane.

* * *

Cassandra was only slightly injured, but it was already near evening, so they decided to camp early. Varric tracked them down an hour later. When they told him what happened, he sighed heavily.

"Sorry," he said, gruffly. "There's just too many of them here."

"It's not your fault, Varric," the Seeker said, the kindest words Elizabeth had heard her speak to him all journey. "While we are this close to the fighting, we should stick closer together."

They only had potatoes left, which they boiled and salted. The Seeker went to lie down after supper. Elizabeth glanced continually at her sister, noting that the color had returned to Jane's face soon after the battle and that she still seemed to have an appetite.

Occupied as she was with Jane's welfare, Elizabeth did not notice that Solas' eyes were following her with renewed interest. At first, he'd dismissed her when he'd discovered that her shallow pool of mana was too weak to withstand a single fight; however, there was a certain uniqueness to her magic, as minimal as it was. In particular, her ability to duplicate spells from mere observation showed a rare level of talent. He'd caught a glimpse at how she did, too; indeed, he could not have missed it, as the effect on her eyes had rendered her face striking. Solas knew that the woman they called the Herald of Andraste was beautiful in a general way, and that many eyes followed her around Haven for that very reason, though his own stayed only on her hand. It occurred to him suddenly that some of the humans would also find the Herald's sister quite pretty as well.

Eventually, Elizabeth had to look away from her sister when Jane went to lay out the bedrolls, and as she did, she met his eyes, surprised to find them sharp and focused on her. He blinked and looked away, to her confusion.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," he replied, standing. He placed his empty bowl next to the fire and went to his tent without saying another word to her or Varric.

Elizabeth stared at the fire for a moment before bidding Varric goodnight and heading back to the tent she shared with Jane.

"Solas was scowling at me just now," she whispered as she climbed into her bedroll.

"Was he?" Jane asked, amused. Elizabeth had told her sister about what she overheard at Haven, though of course Jane had interpreted Solas' comments as concern for Elizabeth's safety. "Maybe he's impressed with your fighting skills."

"I doubt that ; he's a much better mage than I am," Elizabeth replied. "I believe he's offended I stole his spell." She pulled the blankets up to her chin against the cold Hinterlands air. "And if that's the case, I must make sure to steal several more of them."


	4. Chapter 4

At Harding's camp, they were briefed on the fighting in the Crossroads, and then rested for the night. Solas continued to heal the wound on Cassandra's leg. He had initially suggested that Elizabeth help him, but when Cassandra complained that the tent felt too crowded, she hastily agreed and added that the wound was not severe. She escaped to her own tent before he could argue.

"He probably wanted to criticize my healing magic," she grumbled to Jane as she pulled on a sleeping shirt.

"Or he just wanted to work more quickly," her sister replied from her bedroll. "Honestly, Lizzie, I don't think he's half as bad as you say he is."

"Didn't you hear what he said to Varric?" she asked. "About dwarves being 'the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood'? He's obnoxious."

"So far, he's been very nice to me," Jane said.

Elizabeth had, in fact, noticed that Solas was more tolerant towards her sister than he was toward most of the other members of the Inquisition. He patiently answered her questions about his background and the Fade, and even encouraged her to ask more. Perhaps he believes that if the Herald of Andraste counts him as an ally, the Chantry will not force him into a Circle after the war, she thought. She felt something akin to pity if he were that naive.

"Lizzie, I wanted to tell you something," Jane said.

Elizabeth sat on her own bedroll and faced her sister. The fire outside barely outlined their faces in the tent. "Is something wrong?"

"No! Not at all," Jane rushed to say. "It's silly, actually. I would have told you earlier, but you seemed distant before. Distracted."

Elizabeth realized that she meant since they had left Haven. "Yes," she admitted. "Right before we left, Leliana confirmed that two people I knew from Ostwick were at the Conclave."

"Oh," Jane said softly. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't too much of a surprise," she replied. There was a long pause before she spoke again. "What did you want to tell me?"

"It was foolish," Jane said. "Forget I said anything."

Elizabeth lay down and rolled to her side. "Well, now I'll have to bother you until you tell me, and neither of us will get any sleep."

"I… fine." Jane propped herself up with her arm. "The morning we left, I… I tried flirting. With Cullen."

"You did?" Elizabeth asked, pleased. "Why didn't you say anything? How did it go?"

"It went horribly! I told you I'm terrible at flirting. Lizzie, I…" she hesitated, drawing her blanket up to cover part of her face in embarrassment. "I asked him if he was celibate."

"You what?"

"Well… you said sometimes templars are… and I thought…" Jane trailed off.

Elizabeth stared at her sister's face in shock for a moment, then began laughing uncontrollably, sinking her face into her bedroll to keep herself quiet.

"It's not funny!" Jane said. "I think I ruined everything."

"Oh, Jane. I don't think you did," Elizabeth replied as she recovered. She related her last exchange with Cullen before they left Haven, including how he'd flushed and called Jane important.

"That doesn't mean anything," Jane replied, but Elizabeth could see her sister relax a little. "Cassandra calls me important, too."

"Believe me, if she turned as red as Cullen did when she said it," Elizabeth replied, "I'd probably think our dashing Seeker was smitten with you too."

* * *

The noises of the campsite woke Elizabeth in the morning, and she realized she was alone in her tent. The smell of cooked meat wafted through the air. After pulling on her clothes and grabbing her staff, she went out to get breakfast. The late autumn air was brisk and she shivered slightly as she pulled on the boots she'd left just outside the flap of the tent.

At the campfire, Harding handed her a steel mug of oats and a rasher of bacon.

"The Herald and Lady Cassandra went toward the meadow to practice, if you're looking for them," she told her, nodding her head toward the north.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, gratefully accepting both items. The steel mug warmed her hands as she walked towards the sound of clashing metal.

Varric was already there, his own mug balanced precariously on his knee as he watched the two women spar. He glanced up as she sat next to him.

"Hey Blaze," he greeted. "Your sister's not half-bad at fighting." He looked back towards the field. "I mean, she's getting obliterated by the Seeker, but most people would be liquid by now. Count me impressed."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Was that a bona fide Varric Tethras nickname I just heard?"

Varric grinned, but then nodded back to Jane again. "Seriously, though. I can tell you worry about her. You shouldn't," he said. "As I think I mentioned, an hour after I first met her, she killed a Pride Demon. And those things are awful."

"Yes, you did mention," Elizabeth replied, her own smile fading. "And then she fainted and remained unconscious for three full days."

"But she's still alive, right?" he said. "You're not going to be able to protect her forever. And you won't have to."

She didn't reply. They watched some more of the fighting, and Elizabeth began to see what Varric meant. Her sister's form and confidence were good, and her command of her weapon seemed natural. Cassandra was a hurricane of motion, but Jane was defending herself well.

"I might worry too much," she admitted.

"She's gonna be alright," Varric told her. He considered Elizabeth for a moment, and added, "By the way, she's not the only Trevelyan who could use some training."

"I know," Elizabeth said, sighing. "Believe it or not, most of my time at the Circle was not spent learning how to kill people. Quite the opposite, in fact." She swallowed some of the oats. "I've been practicing."

"By yourself," Varric said, and for a moment she thought he was going to offer to spar with her. Instead, he looked over her shoulder. "Come on, Chuckles, you're our resident apostate. Want to help corrupt a local Circle mage?"

Surprised, Elizabeth followed his gaze. Solas was standing a few feet away. He met her eyes first, then turned to Varric.

"I'd be happy to train-" he started to say, but she was already standing.

"Varric, that is an excellent idea," she said, "but I really need to - gather some herbs. Before we leave. So maybe another time?" The excuse sounded weak to even her own ears. Solas took it in stride and nodded, facing back towards Cassandra and Jane, but Varric gave her a curious look.

"Alright. Just remember, Harding said not to go more than a half mile in any direction," he told her as she gathered her things.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said as she left, waving at the two men.

* * *

The Hinterlands were hilly, with twisting paths cutting through ravines. It made it difficult to see more than ten feet in some places, but elfroot was abundant enough that she didn't have to see far. She had almost filled the basket that Harding had leant her when she heard noises and froze, ready to grab her staff. There was a path in front of her that led into the mountains and she fixed her eyes on it, waiting.

A bush to her right shook, and a fennec fox leapt towards her, squealing as it passed. She let out her breath, almost laughing, and began to relax.

Then the templars rounded the corner.

There were two of them, both young and clean shaven. Their shields had smudges of soot and blood, and when their eyes met hers, they looked as startled as she felt. For a giddy moment, she wondered if they could all just turn around and pretend this never happened.

Then the one on the left gave a yell and reached for his sword.

 _Solas's barrier,_ she thought to herself, and with a flick of her hands it landed. It was still clumsy, but she was able to make it stronger this time. Her right hand reached for her staff as her left pooled mana, and she mentally catalogued her spells for one that might be a good offense against people in full armor. The charging templar was almost at her side.

By the time her staff was in her hand, the templar on the right had cast Silence and she felt the Veil slip through her fingers, leaving her empty.

 _Shit._

The other templar's sword hit her barrier. She was unharmed, but the force of blow threw her to the ground. She swung her staff at him and knocked him in the cheek, making him fall back. If I survive, I definitely need to get a blade for this, she thought to herself.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but the templar who had used Silence tackled her and she yelped as she hit the ground again, kicking. Her teeth connected with her lip, and the taste of blood filled her mouth as she struggled. Her foot hit something soft and she heard the man's "oof" as his grip loosened, giving her a chance to crawl away. The other templar had recovered, though, and she looked up to see him swing his blade up. Her barrier wouldn't survive this one, and she brought up her staff as she closed her eyes, knowing it wouldn't be enough to save her.

The blow never came. Instead, a familiar chill passed over her and she opened her eyes to see the man's frozen face. She snapped her head around to see Solas swinging his staff around at the other templar, a wall of ice appearing. It tore the second man apart.

She could feel the Veil returning to her, and she swung her own staff at the frozen man, flicking energy at him. He went straight from ice to fire, and he collapsed, burning, a strangled cry echoing as he fell. He did not get up.

In the silence that followed, she caught her breath and touched the cut on her lip.

"Are you alright?" Solas asked. Before she could respond, Varric appeared behind him.

"Damn it, Blaze, I said no more than half a mile!" he said, angrily. "The Inquisition soldiers couldn't see you over here."

"This is less than half a mile from the camp," Elizabeth replied. She paused. "Isn't it?'

Solas raised an eyebrow as he approached her. "Perhaps being confined to a single building for most of your life has made it difficult to gauge distance. We are well over half a mile from the camp."

"You're lucky Chuckles suggested we check up on you," Varric said. Elizabeth turned her eyes towards Solas, who brought up his hand, hesitated, and then healed her lip with a light touch before stepping back.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely. "Now I owe you twice over." Maybe Jane was correct and she was being far too harsh on the man.

He bowed his head in recognition and then considered the two bodies. "It was simple. It must've been some time since the renegade templars faced a mage of any real talent."

 _Ah,_ she thought to herself with a wry smile, _there it is._

* * *

"No more solo expeditions!" Cassandra said, her fury etched in her face, which was uncomfortably close to Elizabeth's own. Varric had made her tell Cassandra what had happened as soon as they returned to the training field. "From now on, you stick with us. You do not wander off. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Elizabeth replied. She glanced worriedly at her sister, who was staring at her with a pale, haunted look on her face. Jane's reaction to the story was more damning than anything the Seeker could say.

"Those templars must have thought you were a rebel mage," the Seeker continued as she turned and began pacing. "I can think of no other reason they would attack you without provocation."

"Can you not?" Solas murmured, looking at the ground. Cassandra glared at him, then looked away, continuing to pace.

"We should avoid killing members of either side at all costs," she said. "If we are to gain them as allies, we must treat them as worthy of the alliance."

"Seeker," Varric interjected, "I don't know if you've been listening to a word Harding has said, but it doesn't sound like it'll be easy to avoid fighting. They don't seem to care who they hurt."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I am not surprised that they would attack our scouts on sight," she said. "Leliana has told me that there is propaganda in each camp, painting us as champions of the other side." She stopped and clasped her hands behind her back. "However, I hope that when they see Lady Trevelyan and me, they will react more rationally."

"What, just because you're the Right Hand and she's the Herald?" Varric asked.

"Yes," Cassandra said. "And also because I was a Seeker. It is my belief that the templars you encountered would not have attacked if I had been with you." She turned to face Elizabeth. "Nor will the rebel mages attack you or Solas. Together, as a group, we should be able to communicate with both sides."

* * *

Elizabeth was not surprised when Cassandra was proven spectacularly wrong in her assumptions the moment they reached the Crossroads.

"We are not rebel mages!" the warrior cried, keeping her shield up. Her hesitation in harming the templars was obvious at first, but when one of them hit Varric's arm and drew blood, she growled and struck the man down.

"I do not think they care, Seeker," Solas shouted in response, his voice raised over the din of the fight. Harding had warned them that the Crossroads would be dangerous, but even prepared, it was brutal. The refugees were huddled away from the fighting, trying to defend the meager supplies that remained, and the mages and templars barely discriminated between foe and bystander.

Inquisition soldiers were prevailing, however. While neither the templars nor the mages were impressed by the sight of Jane, their own forces took pride in her presence and seemed to fight twice as hard.

Elizabeth stayed behind Solas and Varric this time, and she carefully avoided using her mana to watch Solas or the mages. She focused on directing her fire away from the trees and huts, which made it weaker but more contained. Varric was right, she admitted to herself: She would need training if she was to continue fighting with them.

Luckily, her four companions and the soldiers seemed to have things under control for now. Since he had just saved her life, she initially avoided using Solas' barrier spell out of respect, until he turned to her, mid-shot. "The barrier!" he demanded.

With a mental shrug, she landed one on Jane and Cassandra immediately. It was much better than her first two and it lasted long enough for them to finish off the final wave of templars.

As the fighting ended, Cassandra sheathed her sword and began guiding Jane towards the infirmary to find Mother Giselle. Elizabeth hung back with Varric and Solas, the latter of whom bent to help an injured villager.

"Thank you, serrah," the man said as Solas healed him.

"Think nothing of it," he replied. When he finished, he looked the man in the eyes. "Do you know where the rebel mages have been taking your supplies?"

The man shook his head. "No, serrah. But there's a mage - a peaceful mage like yourself - up the hill, by the old shrine. She's been here a week or two. She might know."

"Thank you," Solas replied. As he stood, Jane came back into view.

"Well?" Elizabeth asked.

"Mother Giselle wants me to go to Val Royeaux and speak with the Revered Mothers," Jane replied.

"No. Absolutely not," Elizabeth said.

"It may be our only chance to convince the Chantry," Cassandra said.

"I mean, I can see Blaze's point, though," Varric said. "Val Royeaux? The place Roderick wanted to take her for execution?"

"This is not Elizabeth's choice to make," Cassandra replied. "We will talk about it with the War Council when we return to Haven, after we find the horsemaster."

"What about the refugees?" Jane asked. "We came all this way…" She looked around helplessly.

"Our forces will continue to help the refugees," Cassandra promised. "You, however, have more important things to deal with."

"Having the Herald herself help may be a good idea," Solas interjected. Cassandra looked confused. "The Chantry has heard the same propaganda that the templars have, I assume, and perhaps even more from Roderick. They believe the Inquisition to be, at best, a weakling organization prone to corruption, and, at worst, behind the death of the Divine. If we help the refugees, our reputation may improve."

Cassandra thought this over. "Fine. We will stay for one week, but no longer."

"Great," Varric said. "Now let's go write Curly a letter that we secured the Crossroads. He'll be pleased to hear it."

"Jane can write it," Elizabeth suggested. Her sister's eyes widened at her and Elizabeth offered her an innocent smile. "I happen to know from my years in the Circle that she's an excellent correspondent."

Varric shot Jane an amused look and then shrugged. "Suits me," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

The mage at the shrine looked familiar from a distance, but Elizabeth kept her expectations in check. The likelihood that her friend would be in the middle of the Crossroads, of all places, was slim. Practical people did not just wander into war zones, and Ellendra was, in most respects, a practical woman.

But as they neared the shrine, Jane grabbed her elbow. "Is that…?" she asked, her voice trailing off as they drew closer.

"Ellendra?" Elizabeth asked tentatively. The woman turned, surprised.

"Eliza!" she exclaimed. The two women embraced tightly. When they disentangled, they kept their arms clasped. "You're alive! I thought you were at the Conclave. When I heard Jane was the only survivor, I thought your whole family must have gone."

"No," Elizabeth replied, shaking her head. "Just Jane."

"Thank the Maker for that," Ellendra said, shaking her head. "I feel like I've heard only bad news lately."

That made Elizabeth hesitate before asking her next question. "How is Mattrin?"

Ellendra tensed and then slipped her arms away, folding them. "I'm not sure. I know he wasn't at the Conclave, but I haven't had a letter from him since before the whole White Spire fiasco." She lowered her voice to a murmur. "...when he stopped taking lyrium."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "He stopped-?"

Jane coughed politely behind them, and Elizabeth became aware of their audience. She turned towards them, grateful for Jane's interruption. "My apologies. This is my good friend, Ellendra Lucas."

"Former enchanter of the Ostwick Circle and member of the College of Aequitarians," Ellendra said with a slight bow of the head. "Current… well." She smiled at Elizabeth. "Current apostate, I suppose."

"You already know Jane," Elizabeth said. Her sister had been a frequent visitor of Ostwick Circle over the years. "The others are Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. We're with the Inquisition."

Ellendra nodded to all of them, though her eyes lingered on Cassandra.

Jane stepped forward with a genuine smile. "It's been too long."

"Lady Trevelyan," Ellendra replied. "Though I hear you go by a new title now." Her eyes drifted towards Jane's left hand. Jane clenched it into a fist, uneasily. "So, tell me, is it true you can close Fade rifts with that?"

Elizabeth almost laughed. Ellendra had never been subtle.

"I- yes," Jane said.

"And you never exhibited any talent at magic before?" Ellendra asked. Jane shook her head, and the mage let out a thoughtful hum. "How intriguing." She turned to Elizabeth. "Do you know how she does it?"

"I haven't seen her close one yet," Elizabeth said. "Solas is an expert on the Fade, so the study has mainly fallen to him."

"An expert on the Fade?" she asked, turning to the other mage. "Well. Your Harrowing must have been interesting, to say the least."

"I did not train in a Circle," Solas replied.

Ellendra lifted her eyebrows. She glanced at Cassandra, as if gauging the woman's reaction, before looking back at Solas. "And yet you're with the Inquisition?"

"I am," he confirmed with a neutral expression.

Ellendra turned to Elizabeth with a chuckle. "I am all astonishment. Truly, we live in interesting times."

"The Inquisition has the distinction of being the only organization that is trying to close the hole in the sky," Elizabeth replied with a smile. "I believe that helps broaden the appeal."

"Speaking of which," Jane said, "Would you be interested in joining us? We're trying to find mages to help us close the Breach."

Ellendra shook her head. "Unfortunately, I have personal business here," she said. "I'm looking for someone."

"When you do find him, would you reconsider?" Elizabeth asked.

"If I find him," Ellendra corrected. She touched her chin, considering the question. "Perhaps. Since the Conclave, I've been weighing my options. I believe the war will be over soon." She gave Elizabeth a significant look that her friend could not quite read. "I'm … I have been considering joining the Loyalists."

Elizabeth was surprised. "The Loyalists?"

Ellendra eyed Elizabeth's companions for a moment. "Though the Inquisition may prove a valuable option as well," she admitted thoughtfully. She turned back to face the shrine. "It's becoming clear what will happen once a new Divine is elected." She lowered her voice. "And I, for one, intend to be well placed when it happens."

* * *

"I hope your friend finds her mage," Cassandra said with more sincerity than Elizabeth anticipated. They had moved on from the Crossroads. After some debate, Jane had convinced Cassandra to put off speaking with Dennet until the afternoon, wanting to handle the more pressing matter of the bandits to the north.

"Thank you, but Mattrin is not a mage." Cassandra gave her a quizzical look, so Elizabeth spelled it out more clearly. "He's a templar."

"A templar!" Cassandra exclaimed. "I see. Was that… was that common at Ostwick then?"

"No," Elizabeth replied with a smile. "Ellendra … well, she always had a thing for templars. She said she liked the ones with the sad eyes."

Varric laughed. "Oh, we've got to introduce her to Curly."

Elizabeth stole a glance at Jane, whose cheeks had become pink. "Well, she hardly needs two of them," she replied dryly. "And Cullen doesn't count, not really. He left the order."

"Not that you could tell that by looking at him," Varric said.

"The appeal would be gone," Elizabeth insisted. "I think she enjoyed wanting something she could not have." Varric snorted and she looked up with a smirk. "What, the storyteller doesn't approve of star-crossed lovers?"

"Sure, star-crossed makes for a great bestseller," he said. "But it's never as much fun in the real world. Trust me, I've seen en-"

At that moment, a loud crack filled the air, like a lightning strike. Elizabeth grabbed her staff, dropping into a fighting stance.

Up ahead, her sister and Cassandra were charging forward, and their action drew her attention to the bright light in the air- a Fade rift. Around it, several Shades appeared, rising up toward Jane. Elizabeth began to move her hand, but Solas laid the barrier first, so she switched tactics and whipped fire at them with her staff.

"Stay behind me, Blaze," Varric warned, and she fell back accordingly, striking several of the demons with fire as Cassandra grunted, striking one down.

She watched curiously as Solas made some sort of glyph from a distance, but didn't dare bring her mana to her eyes after his reaction the other day. The glyph exploded in frozen spikes, destroying the last Shade, and then the rift began to hum with energy. A throb of magic coursed through Elizabeth's veins and a few seconds later, five wraiths appeared.

"How many waves are there usually?" she shouted to Varric, pouring her energy through her staff at the wraiths. Jane stabbed one and then another, fighting with more vitality than Elizabeth had seen from her before.

"This'll be the last one," he yelled back.

Sure enough, once the demons were dead, the rift seemed to soften, as if tension had left it. Jane raised her hand and a pulse of Fade energy shot out, connecting her to the rift. Elizabeth once again fought the urge to raise her mana, but the magic was so bright, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to see anything anyway. With a clap, the rift closed, and Jane stumbled as the connection broke. Elizabeth moved forward to catch her by the arm, and Jane leaned against her.

"So. That's interesting," Elizabeth said. Jane laughed a little breathlessly. "Does it hurt to close them?"

Jane shook her head, still panting. Elizabeth unhooked the waterskin from her belt, handing it to her sister, and Jane gratefully took a gulp before speaking. "It did at first, but not anymore. Solas stabilized it back at Haven."

"Temporarily," Solas added as he approached them, a touch of warning in his tone. "If it begins to pain you again, please let me know." Jane thanked him as Elizabeth held and examined her sister's hand.

"You stabilized it with magic?" she asked. The mark had been trembling, but it seemed to be relaxing now.

"Yes," Solas replied.

She glanced up at him. "Could you teach me how?"

Solas met her gaze. "Probably not."

Varric winced and Elizabeth let out a short laugh. Solas looked startled, as if just realizing what he had said. "I ... suppose I could try to-" he began, but Elizabeth waved a hand, cutting him off.

"No point wasting everyone's time," she replied wryly. She patted Jane on the back. "Excellent job with those demons. You're getting good at this."

"Thank you," Jane said.

"Your sister is right," Cassandra said. "You fought well." She looked up at the sky. "But we should continue if we want to reach the bandits before noon."

* * *

An Inquisition scout named Bellette confirmed that they were on the right path, but warned them that the bandits were unusually well-armed. Evidently, the scouts were beginning to suspect that these were not simple bandits, but mercenaries with a benefactor.

Bellette's directions led them under a crumbling archway into a wooded area with scattered ancient ruins. Solas stopped quite suddenly, touching Jane's elbow.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I believe there is Elvhen magic nearby," he said, tilting his head. Elizabeth couldn't feel anything, but she knew sometimes elves were more sensitive to magic. "My people created artifacts that could help prevent tears in ancient times. I suspect that is what I am sensing. We may be able to activate it."

Jane and Cassandra exchanged a glance, as if silently debating.

"That means fewer Fade rifts, right?" Varric asked.

"That is the intent, yes," Solas said.

Varric held out his hands. "Then I say lead the way."

Jane shrugged her assent, and Solas focused a moment more before guiding them deeper into the overgrown ruins.

They had not gone far when they saw a figure with a staff on her back between two pillars. Cassandra drew her sword, and Elizabeth her staff. As they neared, the figure touched her staff and turned, revealing herself to be a small Dalish elf. She drew her hand away from her weapon.

"Peace, stranger," the woman said in a lilting Dalish accent. "I mean you no harm. My name is Mihris." She glanced at Cassandra's sword and smiled. "By your weapons, I see you come ready for battle. There are demons in these woods. We may face a common enemy."

Jane glanced around the clearing. "Are you fighting the demons on your own?"

"Fighting the demons is pointless. There will always be more as long as there are rifts," Mihris replied. "But I have heard of Elvhen artifacts that prevent tears in the first place. I believe one is nearby."

"We're looking for it too!" Jane exclaimed. "Our friend here was able to sense its location. Maybe we could find it together." Elizabeth saw Solas press his lips together at Jane's words.

"Thank you," Mihris said. She pointed behind them with her staff. "That way, I believe. It shouldn't be too much farther ahead." Cassandra and Elizabeth put away their weapons, and the group followed Mihris up the rocky path.

"What brings you to the Hinterlands?" Jane asked.

"I was-am-First of Clan Virnehn," Mihris replied easily. "I left in service of my clan and saw that great tear in the Veil on my journey. I know more of magic and the Veil than any shemlen, so I hoped to help."

 _"Ma harel, da'len."_

They both looked up at Solas, startled, and Mihris stilled, her face growing pale beneath her vallaslin. "I...," the mage began. She swallowed and looked away from him shakily. "We should keep moving." The elves walked ahead, but Jane took a moment, watching them with a confused expression.

Elizabeth stepped closer to her. "Well, he just makes friends _everywhere_ he goes, doesn't he," she remarked in a low voice. Jane shot her a warning look.

They reached the mountainside and Solas leaned forward, examining the parts where the formation was particularly rocky. Finally he paused and straightened, stepping back. Elizabeth followed his gaze and realized she could make out something that used to be an entrance, hidden behind an old cave-in. He tapped the middle part with his staff.

"We'll need to get by," Mihris agreed, looking at rocks. She spread her hands and Elizabeth felt warmth in the air. The rocks trembled without rising, so Elizabeth stepped forward to help, bringing up her own hands. Together, they were able to clear the entryway. As the dark cave became clear, Solas and Mihris armed themselves.

"Demons!" he warned. Cassandra ran forward with a cry. As Elizabeth's eyes adjusted, she saw three wraiths attacking the warrior. These were weak, nowhere near as aggressive as the ones from the Fade rift or near the Breach. With Mihris' help, they were able to make short work of them.

When the demons lay dead, Elizabeth looked around the chamber. Just inside was a torch that shone with a blue-green flame. She had heard of Veilfire, but never seen it. She wished she could catch a glimpse of it through the Veil, but when she looked up, Solas was watching her, so she refrained.

He looked away and took the torch before heading towards the stairs, indicating with a nod that the rest should follow. As she descended, Elizabeth could feel the rustling of old magic on her skin, like walking on dead leaves with bare feet. There was something familiar about it, but she could not quite place it. The hair on her arms stood up and she shivered.

"There," Mihris murmured, approaching the altar of the lower room. Elizabeth followed her gaze to see a globe on a pedestal in the center. Jane reached it first and, after glancing at Solas as if for permission, touched it. The object lit up and began humming with electric pulses. The paper thin magic on Elizabeth's skin was swept away instantly.

"That will help strengthen the Veil," Solas told her sister, his eyes drifting to the elf next to her. Mihris had been kneeling by the artifact. She stood, her hands clutching something, freezing when she saw Solas step towards her.

"It seems the Ancestors left something for me as well," she said.

He stopped in front of her. " _Ma halani, ma glandival,"_ he replied. _"Vir enasalin."_

"I…," Mihris began warily, but then she shrugged. "Perhaps you are right. Here. Take it. Go with Mythal's blessing." He took it, then turned back to the altar. She headed towards the stairs, but Jane stopped her.

"We're with the Inquisition," she said. "And we're looking for mages to join, to help close the Breach in the sky. Would you like to come back with us?"

Mihris raised her eyebrows. "Me?"

Jane smiled. "It's your sky, too."

Mihris did not return the smile. She hesitated and then looked at the floor. "I am sorry, but I have other things I must be doing," she said. "For my clan. But good luck to you, and safe travels." She nodded briefly to them and then climbed the stairs. As Jane watched her leave, Elizabeth joined Varric in searching the room for valuables.

"It is for the best," Cassandra told Jane. "I doubt a Dalish mage would feel very comfortable among Chantry soldiers."

"I know," Jane sighed. "But I thought maybe she could go to the other clans and gather their mages. Then we wouldn't even need the rebels' help to seal the Breach."

Varric burst out laughing. "Bringing a bunch of Dalish mages to the smoking ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes? While the Chantry still thinks you killed the last Divine?" He shook his head, wiping his hands on his pants as he finished with his side of the room. "The good news is that you'd get the Revered Mothers to agree on something. The bad news is that it'd be an Exalted March on Haven."

Solas turned away from the altar. "Not to mention that many clans may not even respond to one of their own," he added. "The Dalish are as unified as they are educated - which is to say, not much of either. I'm not sure which would be the bigger problem."

Elizabeth frowned, wiping her own hands, and then joined the others as they climbed the stairs. Jane and Cassandra debated whether they'd still be able to deal with the bandits before noon as they left the cave, and Elizabeth slowed her pace to fall in line with Solas and Varric.

"I'm not sure you're being entirely fair to the Dalish," Elizabeth told him as they walked.

Solas looked at her with mild amusement. "Is that so?" he asked. "I'm curious to hear what a noble human would say in defense of them."

"I knew a few Dalish-born mages at my Circle, and they weren't uneducated," she replied. "Or at least, they seemed very knowledgeable of Elven culture."

"Of the Dalish interpretation of it," Solas corrected her. "The clans have been separated for so long that children's tales have become legends, legends have become fact, and the facts have been forgotten. Their people are a fraction of what they once were. And of what they could be."

"Could be?" Elizabeth asked. "What, if they send their children to alienages instead? Or worse, Tevinter? Elves are oppressed everywhere. That's hardly the fault of the Dalish."

Solas frowned. "I did not say it was."

"Well, not directly," Elizabeth replied. "But it did sound like you meant to insult them," she said.

"I did not," Solas said. "They insult themselves."

Elizabeth scoffed.

"That's a little callous, Chuckles," Varric interjected.

"It's realistic," Solas maintained. "Remember, I have walked the memories of the Fade. I have seen the history the Dalish imitate."

"So what did you say to Mihris?" Elizabeth asked sharply. "Something realistic about the Dalish?"

Solas looked up, surprised at her question. "No," he said. "I called her a liar." His lips thinned as he looked ahead. "The clan she claimed is dead, destroyed by a demon their own Keeper had deliberately summoned. Not the first I have heard of such a thing, nor will it be the last. Based on that, I suspected that Mihris was not of Clan Virnehn." He paused. "Or, perhaps even worse, she was. In either event, her reaction spoke for itself." He turned to Elizabeth and raised his eyebrows. "Do you still think I am being unfair in my opinion of the Dalish?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by Varric, who apparently hadn't heard the sarcasm that she had in Solas's last question.

"You know," Varric began, "I was friends with a Dalish elf back in Kirkwall and, weirdly enough, her Keeper-." He caught Elizabeth's warning look and seemed to reconsider. "Actually, you know what? Never mind. Sweet kid, though."

"What were you going to say?" Solas asked Elizabeth.

"Nothing important," she replied calmly, having had a moment to recover. Solas began to say he'd like to hear her response anyway, but she spoke over him. "It seems we are at an impasse. I prefer to judge each person on their actions, not on the actions of their people." She smiled politely. " You can offer as many anecdotes as you have of terrible Dalish, and in response, I can offer as many anecdotes as I have of kind Dalish, and then we'll be no closer to agreeing than when we started. We may as well skip to the end, where we agree to disagree."

Excusing herself, she quickened her steps and joined the two warriors ahead.

Solas was initially disappointed at her departure, but then he realized it had been for the best. A human defending the Dalish - it was such a curious concept that he had found himself wanting to hear more, despite the fact that he'd resolved to show Elizabeth Trevelyan no more attention than any of the other companions.

Sometime during the previous two days, he had made the discovery that even without magic, her small, dark eyes were particularly charming. To his mortification, he realized soon after that "charming" might in fact mean "pretty". Solas had seen attractive features in others since his waking-these shadows that walked the land beyond his Veil could look unnervingly like the People sometimes. A human, though-that was different. At least it meant he was not in any particular danger. But he did not want to give the impression of interest where none could form. He was not so foolish, not anymore.

"You know, Cassandra was asking when you're going to start training her," Varric said, interrupting his thoughts.

Ah, yes. And then there was that small complication. The Seeker had insisted that if Elizabeth were to stay, she would need battle training, and as Solas was the only mage present, he would need to help. As long as Elizabeth continued to turn him down as she had that morning, it could still come to nothing.

"She is more talented than I anticipated," Solas admitted. "It may not be necessary."

"She's not as good as you, Chuckles, which means she's still going to need it," Varric replied. Solas didn't respond, and the dwarf sighed. "Or you can be the one who gets to talk to the Herald when her beloved sister gets crushed by templars."

Solas was quiet for a moment, and then he turned to Varric, changing the subject. "Tell me, Master Tethras," he asked. "How did you and the Seeker get from Kirkwall to Haven so quickly? It seems quite a distance, particularly during wartime."

Varric nodded with a laugh. "That it was," he began, and launched into a detailed explanation. Solas was sure the tale would be long and embellished, and that it would take his mind off his current predicament. After all, dwelling on the subject would not help.


	6. Chapter 6

Cassandra knelt to examine the ground next to an abandoned cart, something she had been doing periodically since they left the cave. The bandits may have been better equipped than the average outlaw, but according to the Seeker, they'd made no effort to hide their tracks. Whether this was because they lacked the training or because they did not think it was necessary in a warzone was unclear.

"How many of them are there?" Jane asked.

"Ten, perhaps," Cassandra replied in a low voice, clapping her hands free of dirt as she stood. "Or less. I believe we are getting close." She glanced at Varric, who had bent over to look at the prints himself. He nodded in agreement. The Seeker pulled her sword from its sheath and motioned for Jane to do the same. "We should make as little noise as possible this close to the encampment."

They continued in silence until they reached a crack in the mountain that led to a ravine. Cassandra motioned at Varric with her shield. He went forward, keeping himself flat against the rock. As they waited, Elizabeth began to feel a prickling sensation on the nape of her neck, as if someone was watching her, but when she turned her head, both Solas and Jane were watching for Varric.

He returned a moment later, gripping Bianca tightly. He held up his left hand once and then held up two fingers. Cassandra accepted this with a nod. She made a gesture for Elizabeth and Solas to fall behind Varric, then beckoned Jane to follow her.

As they moved forward, a clearing with several tents became visible. It was obvious to Elizabeth why the men had chosen this spot for their camp: The ravine walls were high on either side, and , if Cassandra had not been searching, they would never have seen these tents from the road. The entrance was thin enough that even a small army would become bottle-necked and unable to attack. Fortunately, the location left the bandits vulnerable to a small ambush, which is exactly what Cassandra had planned.

The bandits were eating their midday meal, another stroke of luck. They did not hear anything until Jane and Cassandra shouted battle cries, and then they all leapt up at once, disorganized and confused.

Elizabeth stayed back with Varric and Solas, maintaining a steady distance from the fight. Watching as Solas raised his staff to attack, she spread her hand out and laid barriers on the warriors, then reached again for her mana.

Every time she used her magic, she felt it move a little more easily through her. Plunging into battle multiple times a day was certainly one way to make up for lost time. It had been painful the first day, but now the sensation almost felt pleasant, like stretching after a bad night's sleep. She dug down into the new depths of her mana, creating a massive fireball, and shot it at one archer.

To her alarm, it went too low, barrelling towards the Seeker. Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror. She let out her breath when it only skimmed by Cassandra's head before hitting its target. The archer yelped as he stumbled backwards, burning, and the Seeker looked up at her, startled.

"Careful!" she shouted, narrowing her eyes.

"Sorry!" Elizabeth called back. She didn't dig quite as deep for the next attack.

Soon, there were just two bandits left. One was a young swordsman, and the other was a beast of a man who did not seem to relent no matter how many times he was hit. His warhammer alone was Elizabeth's height, at least. Cassandra left the swordsman for Jane while using herself as bait to bring the brute closer to Varric and the mages. Elizabeth grit her teeth as she maintained a steady barrier around the Seeker.

"What in the Void is your sister doing?" Varric shouted, breaking her focus. Elizabeth snapped her head around to see Jane fighting with the swordsman. He lunged at her, and she swung her shield at his weapon, hitting it away. The impact made him stagger backwards, leaving an opening for Jane-but to Elizabeth's surprise, her sister didn't take it. The swordsman recovered and thrust forward a second time. Again, Jane parried his blow once without following up with a strike. Cursing, Elizabeth laid a thick barrier on the Seeker and then moved away, trying to position herself closer to Jane.

"Hit him!" she yelled. Jane seemed to move forward at her sister's command, but then withdrew into a defensive stance once again. Elizabeth growled and dug deep into her mana, forming another fireball. She shot it just as she heard Jane cry out, "No!"

The swordsman fell into a mass of flames, and Jane stared at his burning body, horrified. Elizabeth could still hear the clangs of the Seeker's sword behind her and hesitated before spinning around to lay another barrier. As she did, the brute fell to one knee. Cassandra raised her sword to make the killing blow, but Varric's arrow got the man's eye first. The bandit sagged to the ground, dead.

In a heartbeat, Elizabeth rushed to her sister's side. Jane had fallen to her knees beside the burnt corpse. Elizabeth knelt next to her, confused, and placed her hand on one of Jane's shaking shoulders.

"Did you know him?" Elizabeth asked.

"No," Jane replied in a high voice, her eyes not moving from his body. "But he was so young. He couldn't have been older than Lydia."

Elizabeth sighed and squeezed her sister's shoulder. "Jane, he would have killed you," she said. Jane continued to tremble, staring at the body, until her sister drew her into a tight embrace.

"All this killing, Lizzie," Jane murmured into her sister, choking back a sob. "I don't know if I can do it." Elizabeth stroked her hair without saying anything. Jane's voice took on a bitter tone. "'Herald of Andraste'. Why would Andraste want me to do this ?"

"Andraste was a warrior, too," Elizabeth reminded her. "She fought a war because it was the right thing to do. I'm sure… I'm sure it wasn't always easy for her, right?" She paused here, and Jane's shaking seemed to lessen. "But it helped people, didn't it? You're helping people, too, Jane, and that's what's important. That's all you can do."

Elizabeth held her sister for a few minutes as she began to breathe normally again. She glanced back behind them. Solas and Varric were pointedly discussing something a few yards away, their backs turned, and Cassandra was checking the dead for weapons. When she felt Elizabeth's gaze, she looked up with sympathetic eyes.

"You're right," Jane said into Elizabeth's shoulder. Then she pulled away, rubbing her forehead and taking a shaky breath. "You're right." She shook her head. "I'm okay now. Thank you, Lizzie." Elizabeth watched her warily as Jane stood and examined their surroundings, her eyes still bright with tears. Her focus seemed to return. "We should tell Harding about this place. It'd be a good spot for a camp of our own."

Elizabeth pushed herself into a standing position as well. "With the addition of two guards at the ravine entrance, perhaps," she added.

"Of course," Jane agreed, a small smile crossing her lips. She studied the campsite until her eyes rested on the Seeker. "I'll help Cassandra with the weapons-"

"No," Elizabeth interrupted. The last thing Jane needed was more time near the young bandit's corpse. "I'll do that. Why don't you grab Varric and Solas and explore the other end of the ravine? It looks like there's a passage there."

Jane nodded and went off to speak with the others. As the three of them began to stroll towards the passage, Elizabeth joined Cassandra, who was kneeling by two piles of weapons she'd pulled from the corpses.

"That was well-handled," Cassandra said as she approached. "I know this is not easy for her."

Elizabeth avoided the compliment and looked over the swords. "How are you sorting them?" she asked finally. Cassandra looked back towards the ground.

"These," she replied, waving to one pile, "are the ones that we can discard. And these," she waved at the second pile, "are the ones that are decent enough to keep."

Elizabeth examined the two piles carefully. "How can you tell? They look the same."

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. The pommels and grips match. That is unusual for bandits. I suspect that Bellette is correct and that these men are being paid by someone. They were able to upgrade their weapons with their reward, it would seem." She held up one blade from the second pile, inspecting it. "However, the blanks vary in quality."

"The blanks?"

"The blade itself." Cassandra touched the metal edge of the sword she was holding in demonstration. "A blank fits into a pommel and becomes a sword. There are different levels of… well. I will show you." She put down the sword and replaced it with one from the rejected pile. "Here, hold out your hand." Elizabeth knelt next to the Seeker and held out a gloved hand, accepting the sword into her palm. She began to automatically grasp, but Cassandra shook her head as she let go. "Just let it rest."

Elizabeth stared at the sword, which immediately dipped forward and fell out of her hand, landing on its side with a dull noise. "See," the Seeker said. "That is not balanced correctly. It would take more muscle to make an effective strike, and it would be easy to lose grip in battle." She placed the sword back in the rejection pile . "Now try this one," she said. Elizabeth held her palm out again. Cassandra placed a sword from the decent pile in it carefully. This time, the sword wavered for a few seconds before sliding off with a thunk.

"So… they're both terrible," Elizabeth said after a beat, and to her surprise, Cassandra laughed.

"Yes, that is true," she agreed, still chuckling as she turned back to the second pile. "But these are less terrible. The Inquisition needs weapons. Many of our resources were lost at the Conclave."

"If we're that desperate, I can see why Harritt wants me making weapons," Elizabeth said with a frown.

Before Cassandra could reply, a thunderous roar filled the air and both women jumped up, startled. The sound echoed off the walls of the ravine, followed by the steady sound of short gusts of wind, paced out like heartbeats. Elizabeth's staff was in her hand before she could even process what she'd heard.

"What was that?" she exclaimed.

Cassandra looked around with bright, tense eyes. "I believe that was a dragon."

Elizabeth stared at her. "Maker's breath," she muttered, glancing towards the passageway.

Before she could move toward the sound, three figures came bolting toward the camp. Elizabeth almost dropped her staff in relief. Varric, Solas, and Jane slowed to a jog, with Jane throwing a backward glance at the narrow passage, as if to make sure nothing had followed them. As they reached Cassandra's two piles, they stopped. Varric placed his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

"So, uh," he said, looking up. "We probably don't want to go that way."

* * *

Despite the various delays, they still reached Dennet's farm by sunset, much to Cassandra's relief. A few of Charter's new scouts were setting up camp by a lake when they arrived. After one of the scouts implied that Dennet might have a thing against mages, Cassandra, Varric, and Jane went to negotiate with the horsemaster. Meanwhile, Solas met with an officer regarding Fade rift sightings and Elizabeth dealt with the rams she and Jane had killed along the way. Elizabeth was hoping Harritt could teach her to make leather from the skins, and Jane wanted to send food back to the refugees.

Elizabeth cleaned and separated meat from skin at a nearby river, rinsing her hands between each ram. The work was slow and bloody, and she had no experience dealing with dead animals. Soon she was wishing that she had spent more time in the Circle kitchens. When she finished, her tunic was more red than gray, and her hands were dotted with stubborn flecks of drying blood. She used a simple ice spell to keep the meat and skin cool, and then climbed the hill back to the camp.

Solas was standing on the edge of the lake, intently studying a map. When he saw her approach, he glanced up, and then jerked his head up at the sight of her.

"I know," she said in response. "It's not what it looks like. I was skinning the rams."

His brow furrowed. "You did not drain the animals first?" he asked.

She paused. "Ah, no. Was I supposed to?" He chuckled as his eyes returned to his map, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Right. I should probably get some clean clothes before Jane sees me and faints." She began to move toward the tents and then paused. "Oh, Solas?" He glanced back up. "There's a Fade rift by the river."

"So I heard," he said, nodding. "The scouts say it is quite violent when active, but it appears to be stable when left alone." He looked back at his map. "I plan to study it in the morning."

Elizabeth suspected that this was a dismissal, so she turned back towards the tents. She'd only gone a few steps when she heard Cassandra call her name.

"I was looking for- oh!" Cassandra exclaimed, her eyes trailing down Elizabeth's robes.

"It's only ram's blood," she explained. "I was just about to change."

"You must not have drained the blood properly," Cassandra observed.

"Yes, I suppose it slipped my mind," Elizabeth said dryly, glancing over her shoulder. Solas was still looking at the maps, but she was annoyed to see the corner of his lip twitch upward.

Cassandra recovered herself and held out a small stack of parchment. "The horsemaster had a few old weapon schematics that he offered the Inquisition," she said. "I thought you could keep track of them, since you will be working with Harritt."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, taking the papers. She glanced through them, though she couldn't understand any of the diagrams yet. "That's very kind of you."

"Yes, well. Please let me know in the future if you need help skinning something," Cassandra said, frowning again at the blood.

Focused on reading the schematics, Elizabeth almost ran into one of the officers right outside her and Jane's tent. The woman began to apologize and then looked at her in horror.

"Ram's blood," she said before the officer could say anything. As she opened the flap to her tent, the woman started to reply.

"Oh! You didn't drain-"

Elizabeth grit her teeth, hoping that Solas was out of earshot now. "Going forward, I will be fastidious about draining them first, I assure you," she replied as she entered her tent and shut the flap behind her.

* * *

After she had changed into fresh clothes, Elizabeth took a cloth and returned to the river to wash up before dinner. It was quiet by the water, only the distant murmurings of the camp and the rumbling of the waterfall disturbing the night air. She used the rough side of a rock to remove the dried blood around her fingernails and then ran her fingers through the cold river. The sun had already set, so she had to squint to see her hands in the moonlight.

As she rinsed, she became aware of a third sound-a quiet humming-and she looked toward the waterfall. The softly glowing Fade rift hung in the air above it, bathing the river in a pale green light.

An idea began to form in her mind. Tilting her head, she tried to estimate how far away the rift really was. Even if it did become active, she decided she was at a safe enough distance to call out to the camp before demons could come through. She stood, glancing uphill to make sure no one was nearby, and then she looked up at the sky, raising her mana to her eyes.

Around her, the empty air came alive. The soft light from the moons became distorted through the layers that whipped playfully around her. The Veil was thin here, she noted, more like silk than velvet, trembling in the breeze.

She turned her gaze towards the rift, studying it through the Veil. It was like an open wound, festering, but instead of skin, it was surrounded by frayed threads of green light. Black matter poured down from the other side like blood. She focused her eyes, trying to look deeper into the wound. The tremor of an image stared back at her, a thousand eyes blinking at once, and then the eyes morphed into an endless pit, a depth that seemed to call for her. She did not move, but her stomach pulled violently forward, as if she were falling.

Suddenly, she felt a cold brush of air on her neck. She pulled her mana down and turned her head, startled. Solas stood at the crest of the hill above the river, the camp's fire illuminating him from behind. In the darkness, she could not see his face, though she could tell he was facing her. For a moment, she didn't breathe.

"Your sister wanted me to inform you that dinner is ready," he said evenly, as if he had not just caught her practicing questionable magic for the second time in less than a week, this time next to an unstable tear in the Veil.

She inhaled sharply. "Thank you," she said. "I'll be there in a moment."

He stood a moment longer, then turned to leave. She watched him before squatting beside the river. With shaking hands, she splashed cold water on her face, muttering a string of curses as she did. Afterwards, she rushed back to camp, praying to the Maker that Solas would once again remain discreet, and wondering what in the Void she'd been thinking.


	7. Chapter 7

Whatever schedule the Seeker had put together was hopelessly thrown off by the horsemaster. It was anticipated that Dennet would ask for their help in exchange for his horses, but they had expected something manageable, such as a vanguard or a personal escort to Haven. Instead, he asked for three permanent watchtowers near his farm, plus the help of their team in clearing out a nearby den of particularly vicious wolves. They lost a whole afternoon recovering when it turned out the pack had been taken over by a demon- a turn of events Varric described as "typical". Cassandra had not banked on the delay and vented her frustration to anyone willing to listen, which, by dinnertime, was only Jane.

Finding locations for the watchtowers seemed like it would be the more straightforward task, but thanks to the bears, skirmishes, and Fade rifts, each one took nearly half a day.

In the end, they spent four days at the farm, which was four days too long, in Elizabeth's opinion. Dennet, it turned out, had a talent for putting his foot in his mouth at any given opportunity. On the first day, he managed to call Varric a mule-rider and insult the entire Trevelyan family to Jane's face. Elizabeth would admit to being delighted when Dennet visited the camp on the second day and referred to Solas as "the Dalish one", but she couldn't forgive the man for putting the rest of the camp in a foul mood.

To Elizabeth's relief, Solas seemed just as discreet on the subject of her use of the Veil to watch things as he'd been previously, though it was clear that what he'd seen had disturbed him. Aside from giving her a stack of clean wolfskins the day after they cleared out the den-which, she assumed, he did to demonstrate that one could skin animals without looking like one had walked out of a bloodbath-he spoke no more than ten words to her. Twice, she even caught him staring at her with a hard glint of disapproval in his eyes.

Besides Solas all but shunning her, the main highlight for Elizabeth was that Jane received two letters from Cullen, one on their first day there and one on their last. Technically, they were official reports, but Elizabeth thought she could detect a certain subtext behind his words. Jane, on the other hand, believed them to be strictly professional.

"It's a report , Lizzie, not a poem," Jane insisted when her sister started to analyze the second letter.

Elizabeth ignored her. "Look! Three times in two letters, he writes that he anxiously awaits your return," she pointed out to her sister. She looked up from the letter she was reviewing and gave Jane a meaningful look. " Anxiously. "

"In this one, he uses 'we', though," Jane replied, holding the first letter. "' We anxiously await your return,' you see. He's talking about the council." She flipped the paper in her hand over. "And at least in this case, he goes on to mention Cassandra, so I think he means the plural 'you'."

"How about this, then? He hopes that the camp food is better than Flissa's vegetable soup?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrow.

Jane looked away, pink rising to her cheeks. "We had lunch at the tavern once, and-"

"Yes, yes, I can guess the particulars," Elizabeth said, waving her hand. "I'm more interested in your explanation as to how an inside joke belongs in an official report."

"He has a good sense of humor," Jane replied.

Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible," she said. "Come on, then, let me see your response so far." Jane stood and went to her knapsack, pulling out a rolled parchment. She handed it to Elizabeth, who read the first line and frowned. "You're still addressing him as 'Commander'? Not 'Cullen'?"

Jane crossed her arms. "They are reports, Lizzie."

"Fair enough," Elizabeth said. "And you never know, maybe he likes you calling him 'Commander'. Some people are into that sort of-"

 _"Elizabeth,"_ Jane said, turning bright red.

At that moment, the Seeker called their names from outside the tent. Jane hastily put away the letters while Elizabeth stood and poked her head out of the flap. "Yes?"

"Varric has returned," she said. "We will be heading to Winterwatch Tower as soon as you are ready." One of the scouts had informed them that a sizeable cult resided in the old tower, and Jane was hoping to turn their efforts towards the refugees. Varric had left that morning to scout ahead.

"Thank the Maker," Elizabeth muttered.

Cassandra let out a huff of air. "My sentiments exactly." She glanced deeper into the tent, her brow tightening, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "It is almost the end of the week, and we have spent most of it here. Do you think that the Herald will want to delay our return to Haven?"

Elizabeth grimaced at the idea of spending more time in the Hinterlands. She was eager to get back to Harritt's lessons and a real bed. "If she does, I'll personally tie her up and throw her on the back of my horse," she whispered back.

A voice came from within the tent. "I can hear both of you!"

"Then consider that your only warning!" Elizabeth called back. She smiled at Cassandra politely. "We'll be ready in just a moment."

* * *

As they left the farm, Elizabeth had to practically drag Jane away from a 'Lost Druffalo' sign. They ended up running back to tell an Inquisition scout that the Herald wanted them to look for the animal, though Elizabeth declined to add Jane's qualifier of "urgently".

" You need to focus," she told her sister as they left for the second time. "If the Maker really did put that mark on your hand for a reason, I don't think He had missing pets in mind."

"It's not a pet," Jane replied. "Druffalo are an important part of agricultural stability." The sincerity in her voice made Elizabeth laugh, which, in turn, made Jane's frown more pronounced.

Elizabeth tried, and failed, to straighten her face. "I didn't realize that the Maker was such a druffalo fan," she said. "I must have missed that verse in the Chant. Tell me, is it before or after Threnodies?"

Jane shook her head. "You're lucky Mama isn't here."

"In so many ways," Elizabeth agreed. "But seriously, Jane, the Breach must be our focus right now. You can run around Ferelden saving druffalo to your heart's content when it's sealed."

"I'd be careful," Varric said from ahead. Elizabeth looked up, surprised. She hadn't realized the others were close enough to hear their conversation. "That sounds like it ends with Jane bringing home every abandoned druffalo in Thedas."

Jane looked at him with wide eyes. "Do people really abandon them?"

Varric smirked and glanced back at Elizabeth. "See? Good luck getting the smell out of your clothes."

Elizabeth laughed. "Jane can do as she chooses. I won't be at…" she began to reply, then frowned, swallowing the words ' Longbourn much longer' as quickly as she could. When her sister looked at her curiously, she smiled and recovered. "I won't be… at all bothered by the smell. If we continue to visit such fragrant campgrounds, I'll be quite used to it."

Varric said something in response, and she let Jane reply, hardly listening. She was already lost in thought.

Since she'd learned of Justinia's death, a flutter of panic appeared in Elizabeth's stomach whenever she thought about the future beyond the Breach. She could not imagine the next Divine being quite as lax on mages. The average person in Thedas would want someone to blame for the war, and she doubted the Chantry would hang the templars out to dry unless public opinion forced them to, which seemed unlikely. A general fear of magic made the mages too convenient a target.

The flutter grew. Where would she be in one year's time? The safest option would be returning to a Circle quietly. It was tempting, but a growing part of her did not like that she would willingly submit herself for stability's sake. Once she was behind those walls, it would become much harder to object to anything, and she would slowly become used to things again, to rights being chipped away around her. What could she do from inside a Circle if the abuses became worse? Ostwick had been bad enough toward the end, with rising tensions on both sides and leadership turning a blind eye. But what if it became like Kirkwall? What if she were caught using the Veil to observe magic in a place like that? She knew she would be safer than some of her brethren, as a human with a noble name, but she did not want to stand idly by and let others suffer. There had to be a limit to what she would accept.

But then, what other choices would she have? Become an Isolationist? An apostate? A younger Elizabeth would have found the idea idiotic, would remind her of the risks involved, and would swear to her that the Circles could be reformed from within. But now she was not so sure.

There was, of course, a darker option, one that she hated to consider, but it was something she could not bring herself to do to Jane, or the rest of her family. She had long ago told herself that she would only consider it if she were under immediate threat of facing the Rite of Tranquility, and she did not mean to break that promise.

Lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth followed the group, half-listening as Jane tried to teach the others conversational Orlesian. Eventually, she took her own advice and decided to put her own feelings aside until the Breach could be closed and her sister could safely return home. It would not do to dwell on things she could not change.

* * *

There was another Inquisition camp near Winterwatch, and the five of them stopped there to eat their midday meal and get information from the scouts before approaching the cult.

"They're nice enough, for cultists," Scout Weldon told them. "As long as you keep them from trying to convert you. Then they can get a bit pushy, with all the Maker's Breach talk."

"I suppose it is natural that people would start worshipping the Breach," Solas said thoughtfully as Cassandra passed him a sack of berries.

"Won't that make me unpopular with them?" Jane asked. "If they worship the thing I'm trying to close, won't they see me as a threat?"

"Ritts says they'll be impressed that you can control the rifts," the scout told her. "They have one in the tower. It's one of the reasons they live there."

Cassandra stopped chewing to stare at him. "They purposely live near a Fade rift?" she asked.

"Yes, my lady," Weldon confirmed. "But they're not all a bad sort," he added, seeing the horrified expression on the Seeker's face. "They take in everyone. Elves, dwarves, rebel mages, runaway templars… you name it."

"As long as you join the cult, I assume," Elizabeth added dryly.

"Well, yes," the scout said. He nodded at Jane. "After you're all done eating, Ritts can walk you up herself. She's made a few points of contact in the building, which should get you through the door."

* * *

Ritts introduced them to Speaker Anais, the leader of the cultists, who regarded Jane with open suspicion, but agreed to let them try to close the Fade rift. She guided them into the fortress, chatting amicably with the scout.

Winterwatch had once been an elegant fortress, Elizabeth could tell. It reminded her of the old Trevelyan estate, where their uncle still lived outside Ostwick. As children, the girls would visit with her grandfather, Lord Trevelyan's father, and he'd let Jane, Elizabeth and Mary walk the ramparts.

But this fortress was not so well kept. By its decrepit state, it must have spent decades, maybe even centuries, without an owner, or perhaps with one too poor to care for it. The cultists were fortunate that the foundation still held as strongly as it did.

As they entered the courtyard, people leaned over balconies and stared down at them, curious. Elizabeth shivered, feeling the hairs on her arm stand up in a familiar way, and she was not surprised when Solas mentioned he could feel another artifact nearby. When the Speaker gave them leave to explore the tower, he, Varric, and Jane went to investigate.

As they left, Cassandra turned to the Speaker. "We are told that you have welcomed both mages and templars. Would we be able to speak with any of them?"

Anais glanced at the staff on Elizabeth's back before she answered. "Unfortunately, the war is not kind to either side. Even with our protection, we've lost the few who have found us." She gave Ritts a look of pity. "Your scout was close with one of the mages. What was her name, my child?"

"Eldredda," Ritts said, looking more guilty than sad. "Templars killed her right outside the gates two weeks ago."

"Yes," Anais sighed. "And then, a few days ago, we lost a man from the Order. He had such terrible nightmares."

Ritts looked surprised. "The one from Ostwick?" she asked, as Elizabeth froze. "He's dead?"

"Yes, child," Anais said, shaking her head. "Such a tragedy. He took his own life."

Somehow, Elizabeth found her voice. "This man- his name wasn't Mattrin, was it?" she asked.

Anais took in her expression. "Oh, dear. You knew him, didn't you?" she asked, sadly. Elizabeth managed to confirm she did, closing her eyes. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Ellendra's templar?" Cassandra asked. Elizabeth met her gaze and nodded. The Seeker's lips thinned grimly and she sighed. "We will have to inform her."

"He's with Andraste now," Anais said, her eyes drifting skyward. After a pause, she turned back to them. "He left some personal items. A vial, and a- a letter. If you knew him- if you would be so kind?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said.

Jane returned a moment later, and Cassandra informed her of what they had learned. Elizabeth had to talk her sister out of leaving for the Crossroads immediately, much as it pained her to prioritize the Inquisition over her friend. She insisted they stick to their plan, which would have them in the Crossroads by the next day, both to return the supplies they'd found for Recruit Whittle, and to check in with Harding before they left for Haven.

* * *

Elizabeth rose the next day, sore and quiet, feeling like she'd never slept, and could not stomach much for breakfast. They left at dawn.

"I am so, so sorry," Elizabeth said. She had brought Ellendra to an abandoned apothecary hut to talk while Jane and the others checked in with Whittle.

Ellendra did not respond. She stared at her phylactery on the table before them with unseeing eyes. Her hand twitched towards it and then stopped. After a moment, Elizabeth reached out to touch her.

Her friend looked up then, her eyes focusing. "I thought he was dead, you know. After the White Spire. I adjusted. I moved on. For so long, I truly thought..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. "When I first heard that he might be alive, I didn't dare hope it was true. I told myself I was prepared. That I knew he was already lost to me. I think I believed it myself." She closed her eyes, though no tears spilled out. "But, you know, I've always been such a good liar."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Elizabeth stroking Ellendra's hand. Finally, Ellendra stood, pulling away from her friend's grasp. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve.

"Very well," she said in a cool voice. "I shall join your Inquisition."

Elizabeth paused, surprised by the shift in subject and tone. "Oh, Ellendra. You don't have to decide that now."

"I'm afraid I do, actually," she replied.

"No," Elizabeth said. "Ellendra, please. You should take the time to mourn."

Ellendra traced the edge of the table with a finger. "Time," she said softly. "Time was a luxury Mattrin and I could not afford." She folded her arms and lifted her chin as she walked to the window of the hut, watching the villagers below. "Change is coming. This war is all but over. Don't you feel it in the air?"

The familiar flutter of panic danced in Elizabeth's stomach, and she swallowed thickly before speaking. "Of course I do."

"We are mages, Eliza," Ellendra said. "The clock is ticking. The moment the Chantry is able to place itself upright, it will crush those of us who are not careful. Justinia was the only barrier between us and them before, and now she is dead." She turned her head and offered her friend a smile that did not reach her eyes. " You have already done the wisest thing."

"I have?"

"Yes. You joined them," Ellendra said, looking back out the window.

"Joined the Chantry?" Elizabeth said, astonished. She stuttered over her words. "Me? That's not what the Inquisition is at all. The- the Chantry has denounced us!"

"Who? Do you mean the collection of Revered Mothers bickering in Val Royeaux?" Ellendra asked. "The so-called Chantry is currently a coop of powerless, nameless hens. They cluck at the dogs that guard them, thinking they see foxes. The only reason they're allowed to grandstand in this manner is because everyone with enough power or influence to silence them died at the Conclave." She turned back to Elizabeth and raised an eyebrow. "Well. That is, almost everyone."

Realization dawned in Elizabeth's mind. "The Right and the Left Hand," she said. "Cassandra and Leliana. You think one of them will be the next Divine."

"If your sister is successful, yes," Ellendra agreed. "And if not, well." She shrugged, turning away again. "Then I suppose that this whole discussion will be rendered moot."

Elizabeth frowned. "That's the reason you were considering the Loyalists, isn't it? So you could work with the new Divine." She tilted her head. "But why? To promote Circle reforms? I doubt the Loyalists would let you."

Ellendra laughed shortly. "Eliza, Andraste herself could swoop down from the Maker's side and tell the Chantry to treat mages better, and they still would not listen," she replied. "And it does not help that the mages insist on responding like wild animals. All these rebels have done is create an argument for stronger fences and more restrictions, and it's the same every time, isn't it?" Ellendra's expression turned sour. "I have no doubt that the future of the Circle will be dark, much darker than anything you or I have seen, I'm sure." She paused and placed her hands on the window sill. "But the new Circle of Magi does not have to be the future of every mage. There will continue to be positions for those in good standing with the Order. In Circles or at court, I imagine, especially for those who help the Divine rebuild. Positions with more freedom and safety. It is something we both should consider."

"Leadership? As Loyalists?" Elizabeth looked at her friend in shock. "So you suggest that we swear Chantry fealty and advocate for the Order? Become lackey First Enchanters, denounce every part of the rebellion? Toe the line and keep the peace, regardless of what is asked of us?" She shook her head in frustration. "Is that what you plan to do?"

A beat of silence passed. "Essentially," Ellendra admitted with a shrug.

"It is not sound, Ellendra. You know it is not sound. You will be safe, but the rest of us will not be. Would you really abandon your own people?"

"My own people?" Ellendra said sharply. "Am I required to stand for their actions now, when we have seen what those actions lead to?"

"The actions of some mages, as well as the actions of some of the templars," Elizabeth replied. "But all of the mages will be punished, won't we? Unless we become Chantry watchdogs." She shook her head in disgust. "Would you even try to reform?"

"And make myself a target? Why, so I can be on record for supporting something that will never happen?"

"When you were my instructor, you taught me reform was possible," Elizabeth argued. "That it was necessary."

"Yes," Ellendra replied, her voice quieting. She looked at the vial on the table then, and her eyes became sorrowful. "And since then, I've come to believe there is something to be said for the status quo." The anger melted from Elizabeth's chest as quickly as it had risen, replaced by a stab of shame.

"Oh, Ellendra, I apologize," she said, softly. "I didn't mean to argue with you. Especially not right now."

Ellendra stared for another moment, and then gave Elizabeth a sad smile. "Of course. We are both emotional. I am sorry, too." She opened her arms, and Elizabeth moved forward to hug her tightly. When they broke apart, Ellendra's face was once again impassive. "Leave me, then. I promise you, I will come to Haven as soon as I have written to Mattrin's family and closed out my affairs here." She pocketed the vial and patted Elizabeth on the arm, sighing heavily. "I realize I have disappointed you, Eliza." Elizabeth tried to speak, and Ellendra raised a hand to stop her. "But regardless, I am truly glad we will be in the same place again. I've missed you." She pulled her hand away and turned to gaze at the window again. "I hope that we can put this behind us when we next meet."

"Of course we can," Elizabeth said, pushing aside her lingering concerns. "I'll be glad to have you, too."

* * *

Try as she might to be present, Elizabeth was plagued by dark thoughts for the rest of the day. Fortunately, her companions avoided her, letting her hang back as they spoke to the villagers. The only exception was Jane, who frequently reached out to squeeze her hand or touch her back. They all assumed she was mourning Mattrin, which in part was true, and gave her space. She did not correct them, which left the lingering taste of guilt in her mouth.

By the time they finally got to Harding's camp, she felt emotionally exhausted, and she tried to skip the evening meal again. Jane forced her to eat some dried meat before she retired, and so she sat by the fire, chewing methodically and staring at the flames, as Cassandra read part of a letter from Leliana out loud. As soon as Jane was satisfied, she slipped into their tent and climbed onto her bedroll, not even changing out of her tunic.

The Fade took her back to the Circle that night, to a day several years before her own Harrowing. She was making lotuses out of cloth for two homesick apprentices. One of the children grabbed her arm and tugged, and it took Elizabeth a moment to realize the movement was happening on the other side of the Fade.

"Lizzie," a familiar voice said, low and worried, too old to be an apprentice. "Oh, Lizzie."

"Jane?" Elizabeth murmured as she came to. "What's wrong?"

"You're going to kill me," Jane whispered.

Elizabeth blinked as Jane's silhouette became clear in the dim light. She could just make out that Jane's hands were playing with her braid. "Why?"

"I may have done something bad," Jane explained. She swallowed before explaining. "Leliana … in that letter, she said that the Grey Wardens have disappeared, and she's worried it has something to do with the explosion."

"What do you mean, they've disappeared?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"They're gone," Jane said simply.

"All of them?" Elizabeth said. "How could they…? When did this happen?"

"Several weeks before the Conclave," Jane said.

"Several weeks before…?" Elizabeth began. That did not make sense. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hand. "What about Blackwall? Isn't he still in Longbourn village?"

"That's exactly what I said," Jane said, sounding a little relieved. She paused for a moment, as if hoping Elizabeth would be able to guess the next part, but Elizabeth shook her head, not understanding. Jane took a deep breath. "That's what I said to Cassandra," she explained, slowly. "And then she said Leliana would want one of us to speak with him in person. So she suggested-"

"Oh," Elizabeth breathed, sitting up as she realized. She was very awake now.

"She suggested that we find him."

"Oh no," Elizabeth said. "Oh _Maker,"_ she moaned, placing her head in her hands at the thought of their companions meeting her family, of them meeting _her mother._ Of her mother speaking to Cassandra, to Solas, about anything . "Oh no, Jane, don't tell me-"

Her sister grasped her hand. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie. In the morning, we're leaving for Longbourn."


	8. Chapter 8

"There must be another option," Elizabeth insisted as she followed Cassandra through the camp, past the requisition table. Cassandra placed a bag on one of their packhorses, securing it tightly with a leather strap. It was dawn, and they were scheduled to leave for Longbourn within the hour. "What if Jane and I go alone?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She'd answered Elizabeth's concerns with measured restraint while the five of them had eaten breakfast, but now Elizabeth could tell her patience was wearing thin. "Your fighting skills have improved, but I am not about to let the Herald run off without better protection," she said. "Besides, Leliana will want me to speak with Warden Blackwall personally."

Elizabeth folded her arms. "Fine. Then the three of us can go, and Varric and Solas can head back to Haven," she suggested. She was not particularly eager to see Cassandra interact with her mother, but perhaps it would minimize the damage. There was always an off-chance that the sheer number of titles the Seeker held would shock her mother into silence.

"Solas is our only accomplished healer, and Varric is staying with me until we are able to track down Marianne Hawke," Cassandra said.

"Oh, come on, Seeker," Varric complained, looking up from the pony he was brushing. "I like to at least pretend that I'm here voluntarily. It happens to help me sleep at night." Cassandra ignored him, opening a half-packed sack near her own tent.

Elizabeth ran a hand over her face as she watched the Seeker layer dried meat into the bag. "Okay, what if you go by yourself, and-"

"Elizabeth," Cassandra said, exasperated, as she turned to face her. "I realize that your relationship with your mother is … well, complicated-"

"On the contrary, it sounds rather straightforward," Solas said, sounding amused. Varric barked out a laugh at that.

Cassandra shot them both a glare before returning her gaze to Elizabeth. "-but we will only be there for two nights. I believe we will all survive."

Elizabeth wanted to reply, but she could only let out a frustrated noise as the Seeker turned back to packing.

"I don't get it, Blaze," Varric said as he walked towards her. "You lived there since Ostwick Circle fell, right? Going back for two nights should be easy."

She hesitated, thinking back on some of her mother's more choice rants. Several involving elves came to mind, and she forced herself not to glance at Solas. "Mama has a lot of opinions about… things," she replied. "And I'm also terrified to see how she's reacting to Jane being proclaimed the Herald of Andraste. My father keeps joking that she's trying to marry her off to Duke Gaspard." Elizabeth mouth dropped open as an awful thought struck her. "Maker's breath. I hope he's joking." Then her expression relaxed again. "No, wait. Mama hates Orlesians."

"Right, she's Fereldan, huh?" Varric asked. He shrugged. "I guess I can't blame her for holding a grudge."

"No, it's not because of the occupation," Elizabeth said. "She actually used to love the idea of Orlais. Father is half Orlesian himself, on his mother's side. His second cousin is Duke Bastien de Ghislain, and before I went to the Circle, she'd make us all speak Orlesian at the dinner table. But then Mama tried to use Father's family connection to make a match for Jane at the Orlesian court, and well…" She winced. "She was not very good at the Game."

Varric smiled. "Just for research purposes, which subject would get a bigger reaction from her? The Civil War or growing elven tensions in Halamshiral?" Elizabeth gave him a hard look, and he laughed. "Relax, I was kidding. I'm not going to make you uncomfortable in front of your family. Not on purpose, anyway. You know I have about a hundred stories I can tell instead." He crossed his arms and frowned. "So, uh, completely unrelated question. How does she feel about Kirkwall?"

Elizabeth groaned and looked up at the sky. "This is going to be a disaster."

* * *

Once Elizabeth accepted that the Seeker could not be dissuaded from her plan, packing did not take long. There were reports of aggressive bandits to the north, so they ended up on the more southern route, avoiding the Imperial Highway and, more importantly, Redcliffe, much to her relief. With Jane needing the help of a large group of mages, Elizabeth knew that she would most likely be seeing the rebellion sooner or later, but all things considered, 'later' sounded preferable. Her thoughts since the Conclave had become more sympathetic towards the rebellion than they had been previously. However, she still believed that the timing was terrible. Kirkwall was still a smoking ruin, and in the wake of that catastrophe, focusing on templar abuses was a mistake. The Order was only the hand that held the key. It did not create the mages' cells, nor did it have the power to destroy them. That distinction belonged to the Chantry alone.

The southern path was rougher and barely wide enough for two horses, but with the positive feature of being almost entirely devoid of bandits. While Varric scouted and Jane spoke with Solas about his journeys, Elizabeth found herself falling in line with Cassandra. The Seeker did not speak at all, which was fine with Elizabeth. She found herself lost in her own worried thoughts, barely listening to the conversation ahead.

On the morning of the day they were to arrive at Longbourn, Elizabeth pulled aside her sister while the others packed up the campsite.

"Do you think we should warn Solas?" she asked in a low voice.

Jane looked at her blankly. "About what?"

"You know," Elizabeth said. "About Mama." Jane's brow furrowed and Elizabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes. "About Mama and elves ."

"Oh!" Jane exclaimed, placing a hand on her own cheek. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that. You… you don't think she'll say something awful, do you?"

Elizabeth stared at her sister for a moment, wondering briefly what sort of alternate version of their family she'd grown up in. "Of course she'll say something awful, Jane. That's what Mama does."

"I'm sure she won't," Jane replied, not sounding sure at all. Her eyes widened. "Oh! We'll tell her how he saved our lives. Then she wouldn't dare say anything."

Elizabeth snorted. "With spirit magic? That will go over well." Magic was another touchy subject with Lady Trevelyan.

Jane let her hand fall. "Well, Father would stop her before she did anything stupid, wouldn't he?"

"Are you willing to bet on that?" Elizabeth asked. Jane chewed on her lip without replying. "I just think you should talk to him before we arrive."

"If you're so sure, why don't you talk to him about it?"

"Because he doesn't like me," Elizabeth said. "He'll take you more seriously."

Jane gave her sister a look. "You mean you don't like him ."

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Those aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, you know."

"Well, if you don't like him, why do you even care what she says?" Jane asked.

Elizabeth sighed. "If Mama wanted to insult Solas because he's Solas , she and I would miraculously agree on something," she replied. "But, no, she'll want to insult him because he's an elf. And it's not right, Jane. You know it isn't."

"Lizzie, I just-" Jane began, but her voice trailed off as Varric approached them. They both fell silent.

"Sorry to break up this top secret Trevelyan meeting, but the Seeker says we're ready to go," he said.

"We'll be over in a moment," Elizabeth said. She glanced back at Jane before retreating to her horse. "Just think about saying something, okay?"

* * *

That there was no runner at the gate to announce their arrival was the first sign that something might be amiss. Elizabeth and Jane exchanged confused glances; usually their father sent out Doris when visitors were expected. It was unlike him, but Elizabeth thought that perhaps with family he did not want to stand on occasion.

The second was that she counted only four blonde heads coming out the front door to greet them on the gravel. She counted her mother, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia- and no one followed.

"That's strange," she said to Jane under her breath.

"Jane!" Lady Trevelyan cried out cheerfully as they approached. "Oh, I'm so glad to have you safe and home at last."

"Temporarily ," Elizabeth added.

"Of course, of course," her mother replied, sounding a little giddy as she helped her eldest daughter from her horse. She glanced up at her second daughter. "And Lizzie, it's so nice to see you too!" She turned back to Jane. "Oh, dear Jane. We have been in such a state!" She hugged her tightly as Elizabeth and the others descended from their own mounts.

The sisters greeted their family and introduced their companions. Elizabeth made sure to introduce Solas as the healer who saved Jane's life, even though her mother was barely paying attention.

"But Mama," Elizabeth said evenly, after the niceties were over. "Where is Father? He's not ill, is he?"

"Oh, not at all! He's away," Lady Trevelyan said, waving her hand.

"Away where?" Jane asked.

"Visiting," Lady Trevelyan said vaguely. Elizabeth looked at her curiously. It was not like their mother to be reserved.

"He's visiting his cousin," Mary finally said, and the glare that earned her from Lady Trevelyan did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth, who raised her eyebrows.

"He went back to Ostwick?"

"No, no," her mother replied, looking toward the house with a forced casual air. "He's gone to Val Royeaux."

Elizabeth exchanged a shocked look with Jane. "Val Royeaux?" she asked her mother. "You don't mean that he's visiting Duke Bastien, do you?"

"Oh well, yes, I suppose I do!" Her mother twisted her hands. "What does it matter, Lizzie? People visit their cousins all the time!"

"But I thought we didn't acknowledge that side of the family," Elizabeth said.

Lady Trevelyan laughed nervously with a glance at their guests. "'Didn't acknowledge that side'! What a strange sense of humor you have. Why would we not acknowledge our Orlesian cousins? The very idea! Well, then, let me get you all inside. Doris, could you lead our guests' horses to the stables? Oh, perhaps there are a few too many. Could you- Solas was it? Could you help her?"

Solas began to step forward to do so, not realizing what her mother was implying, and Elizabeth stopped him hastily. "Oh, no, allow me," she said to him and her mother. "Mary and I can get the horses. Doris can help you with the guest rooms." She gave her younger sister a significant look, grabbing the reins of two of the horses before her mother could protest. Mary joined her and they began to walk away.

Once they were out of earshot, Elizabeth stepped closer to her sister. "Why is Father visiting Duke Bastien all of a sudden?"

"He didn't tell you in his letters?" Mary asked with some surprise. "Mama is trying to marry Jane off to Duke Gaspard. I mean, Emperor Gaspard." She looked behind them nervously. "Don't call him Duke in front of her."

"Maker's breath," Elizabeth muttered. "I didn't think he was serious! Why would he agree to that ? And why would she want to? I thought Mama hated everything about Orlais!"

"Yes, she did, back when they were all snubbing her," Mary explained. "But Jane is all anyone in Val Royeaux can talk about. We've been getting invitations to these elegant parties, and Mama keeps telling us times have changed." She paused as they reached the stables, tying one of the horse's reins to a post within reach of the trough.

"She hasn't made him any promises, has she?" Elizabeth asked. For a chilling moment, she could only imagine trying to explain to Cassandra and Leliana that her mother had haplessly thrown the Inquisition's support behind the losing faction of the Orlesian civil war.

"No, I don't believe so," Mary said. "Though Father wrote to her that he's bringing a surprise guest with him. Mama is convinced it's Gaspard. She's hoping that they will get here before Jane leaves, but they haven't reached the mountains yet."

"Well, that's a relief. He'll almost certainly miss us then," Elizabeth replied, patting her horse firmly.

* * *

The halls of Longbourn were empty when the sisters returned from the stables. Elizabeth went up to her room, dropping her sack in the corner, planning to repack it with better supplies before leaving. It was strange to be back, to see her bedroom so untouched by the events of the past month.

She went to her armoire and opened it, letting her gaze drift over the tunics, robes, and dresses within. Most of them were not fit for substantial travel, let alone fighting. She was on the verge of giving up when her eyes landed on the Circle robes she'd worn when she returned home, which at least had an enchantment for protection, though it was not strong enough to act as armor. She supposed it would be counter-productive for the Chantry to give mages robes that could properly defend them against templars.

She pressed the thin cloth between two fingers, feeling the material. It wasn't exactly made for the outdoors, but perhaps with Harritt's help, she could create some light armor from it. The idea of repurposing something from the Circle for fighting sent a rebellious thrill through Elizabeth's veins, and before she could think better of it, she'd laid the deep blue outfit out on the bed to pack.

A knock at the door made her start. "My lady?" Doris asked from the other side.

"Come in," she replied. Doris entered, carrying two buckets of water, followed by the cook's son, who carried two more. As she watched, confused, they pulled the big washing basin from her wall to the center of the room and began pouring their water in. "Thank you, Doris, but I didn't call for a bath," she said.

"No, but Lady Trevelyan said that you and Lady Jane were to receive baths first thing," Doris replied.

"Of course she did," Elizabeth said. Still, this was one proclivity she could forgive. The streams in the Hinterlands had been icy and far too large for her magic to warm them, making bathing quick and uncomfortable, and the baths at the Circle had been public and awkward. In the time she'd spent living at home, she'd come to appreciate a hot bath. She let them fill up the basin without further complaint.

Doris stood as she finished and nodded at her. "We'll be back with the coals in a moment, my Lady."

"That won't be necessary," Elizabeth replied. She stepped towards the tub and moved her hand over it, casting fire lightly in the steel bottom until the water was steaming and then curling her fingers to kill the spell. The servants exchanged distinctly uncomfortable glances as they left, and Elizabeth felt a little guilty as she barred the door. She was tired of hiding her magic at home, though. The shadow of the Circle's return loomed over her more each day, and it was bringing out a defiant side of herself that she did not even know existed.

After a moment's consideration, she went to her bag and retrieved a handful of dried Elfroot leaves, knowing she could spare that much. Steeping them in the water would relax her muscles, and she also enjoyed their herbal, piney scent. She stirred them in and stripped her clothes. As the scent floated through the room, she stepped gingerly into the tub, letting the steam rise around her. Sliding down and leaning back, she had to admit to herself that this small luxury might be worth the trip to Longbourn, provided that nothing else went wrong.

In retrospect, it would have been a good idea to knock on wood after such a thought.

"Lizzie?" someone said on the other side of her door.

She recognized Mary's voice and frowned. "I'm bathing, Mary."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But..." her sister trailed off and then cleared her throat. "Lizzie, it's Mama."

Elizabeth sighed, sinking further into the warm water. "Can't it wait?"

"I don't think so," Mary replied, nervously. "She, um." There was a pause. "The elf you arrived with. She's… she's put him in the servant's quarters."

Elizabeth froze, gripping the side of the basin. The servant's quarters at Longbourn were abysmal rooms, small and dank and not at all set up for guests. Even Doris and the cook's family lived in two large huts outside the property. "She didn't. "

"I told her that you and Jane would be upset, but she said there wasn't enough room for everyone, and as an apostate, he couldn't be used to much better accommodations." As Mary explained, Elizabeth climbed out of the bath so quickly that at least a bucket's worth of water splashed on the floor.

"Bullshit," Elizabeth growled, grabbing the Circle robes from her bed and tugging them over her head with some difficulty. "What about the attic?" she asked in a muffled voice, the fabric resisting her damp skin.

"Mama is saving it for Father's guest."

"But they're not even here yet!"

"Yes, but you know Mama," Mary replied.

Elizabeth did. Pulling her arms down, she finally won the war against the now damp Circle robes and opened the door.

"Oh!" Mary exclaimed, looking her over.

"Where is she?"

"Last I saw, she was downstairs, by the fireplace. But you're …" Mary choked on the next word, glancing at Elizabeth's chest nervously, "...soaking wet." Elizabeth glanced down, noting that, once damp, the robes did cling to her chest, making it scoop down in the front in a more revealing manner. She pulled at the fabric awkwardly, which actually seemed to make things worse, and then gave up with a huff.

"Maker's breath," she muttered. "Never mind. It's fine." She pushed past Mary and headed for the stairs, hearing Mary whisper something about Andraste and perseverance behind her.

Her mother was indeed at a small writing desk by the fireplace. When Elizabeth stormed into the room, she jumped to her feet.

"Lizzie!" she exclaimed, staring at her in horror. "What in the world are you wearing ? We have strangers in the house!"

Elizabeth crossed her arms, feeling the water drip from her hair. "Did you give Solas a room in the servant's quarters?" she asked.

"I- well, that is-," Lady Trevelyan stuttered. "I gave him the only free room left," she said innocently. "That it happened to be in the servant's quarters-"

"What about the attic?" Elizabeth said.

"Oh, well, we're saving that room for your father's guest," Lady Trevelyan said, her eyes brightening. "I don't suppose Mary told you about-"

"Mama, we'll be long gone by the time they arrive," Elizabeth said. "You can use it for Solas now, and the guest later."

"I know that's the plan ," Lady Trevelyan said, tittering. She sat back at her desk. "But you never know how these things work out, do you? Now, Lizzie, you really should go change-"

"We are only here for two nights . You know that. We were very clear in our letter," she said.

"Well, we don't know when your father is arriving," Lady Trevelyan argued. "It may be before that, or it may be after. Doris might not have enough time-"

Elizabeth squeezed the bridge of her nose and grit her teeth. By her estimation, they'd been at Longbourn for less than an hour, and she already wanted to set the whole damn place on fire. "Fine. Fine," she said tightly, removing her hand. "Solas can have my room. Jane and I will share."

"Have your room!" Lady Trevelyan cried. "A stranger and an elf! I don't think that's appropriate-"

"I don't care what you think," Elizabeth snapped. "And if I even hear Doris whisper that you tried to move him back, I will tell Father about the time you tried to marry me off to the son of a Tevinter magister." Lady Trevelyan closed her mouth tightly, having no response, and Elizabeth spun on her heels, heading towards the servant's quarters.

* * *

Solas was seated on a hay mattress on the floor when Elizabeth entered. The tiny room was dusty and cold, and Elizabeth scowled, feeling the weight of her mother's insult anew. He stood as he saw her, his eyes widening as they travelled up her body before he looked away sharply. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling her cheeks flush, and reminded herself that he'd healed her chest injury at Haven.

"I apologize," Elizabeth said evenly. "I was in the bath when I was alerted to my mother's… behavior."

"Ah," Solas said simply.

"Gather your things," she said. "I'm bringing you to a new room."

He turned to meet her gaze, pointedly keeping his eyes above her chin. "I appreciate the offer, but there's no need to trouble yourself," he replied. "I am an apostate. I have dealt with much worse conditions than this."

"I don't care if you slept with wild dogs before Haven," Elizabeth replied heatedly. "I'm not going to let Mama treat a member of the Inquisition like this." Solas paused, but after studying her face, he seemed to accept that this was not up for debate. He put the few items he'd unpacked back in his bag and grabbed his staff, following her out of the room.

They climbed to the second floor in silence before Solas spoke. "Your mother told me that there were no other rooms available."

"Well, we had a sudden vacancy," Elizabeth said dryly as they reached her door. She opened it and stepped in, the scent of elfroot swirling out of the still warm bath. Solas looked at the bath and then at her damp hair and robes in surprise.

"This is your room," he realized.

She smiled archly. "Well spotted, Donnen Brennokovic."

His brow drew together in confusion. "But where will you sleep?"

"In Jane's room," she replied. When he began to protest, she shook her head and interrupted. "Honestly, we prefer it that way."

Solas looked at the bath and the bed, then let his gaze drop to the floor. "That is … very generous of you," he said. "Though it is not necessary."

Elizabeth sighed. "Solas, you're a member of the Inquisition. You came to help, knowing what the risks were. I'm a mage, too, you know. I'm not blind to the dangers you've put yourself in." She pushed some of her damp hair away from her face. "I won't let my mother-or anyone else- treat you poorly." It was a slippery slope, one she'd seen play out at the Circle. At first, people allowed minor transgressions to go by without comment, and eventually the offenses became more and more severe. She didn't like Solas, but she had no wish to see him made Tranquil or forced into a Circle.

"How would you stop them?" Solas asked in a rhetorical voice, his eyes still on the ground.

Elizabeth huffed. Of course Solas couldn't let this go without a dig at her magic. "I may not be as powerful as you, but I'm stubborn," she replied. "I'd stop them." Solas looked up, and she was confused when she saw the familiar glint of disapproval in his eyes. She wasn't sure what she'd said wrong, and was about to apologize when he turned away, facing the windows.

"Thank you," he said, softly.

An awkward silence followed. "Well," Elizabeth said. "I suppose I'll let you get settled in." She began to move towards the door. "Oh, feel free to use the bath. I barely got to." Solas continued to look out the windows without replying. She closed the door behind her and exhaled as she leaned against it, wondering how she was supposed to make it through the next two days.


	9. Chapter 9

As they dressed for dinner, Jane assured her sister that she was satisfied with their new sleeping arrangements-particularly after Elizabeth gave her the full backstory. Their mother's treatment of Solas appalled her, but the subject could only receive a few sharp exclamations before Elizabeth was able to shift the conversation to a matter she found much more pressing.

"I found out why Father is visiting his cousin," she said. Jane eased herself onto the bed and cocked her head curiously. "Mama wants to marry you off to Duke Gaspard. He's trying to set up a match."

Jane's eyebrows shot up. "Gaspard? Gaspard de Chalons?"

"Yes."

To Elizabeth's surprise, Jane smiled. "Mama wants me to marry Gaspard, so she sent Father to Duke Bastien?" Elizabeth nodded. Jane's hand came up to her mouth and she began to laugh. "Oh Lizzie! That is-" She tried to speak, but folded over as she laughed even harder.

"I believe she's quite serious about it," Elizabeth said, startled.

After a moment, Jane ran her fingers under her eyes, clearing away tears. "Oh, Lizzie, you don't know, do you," she said. "Didn't you ever discuss politics in that Circle of yours?"

"Of course we did," Elizabeth said defensively, though she privately acknowledged that most political discussions were about mages, templars, and the Circle itself. "Well, the basics, I mean. Who's in charge, who's at war- that sort of thing." She crossed her arms and sat next to her sister. "Why? What don't I know?"

"Gaspard and Bastien hate each other. They were once-well, it's messy-but suffice it to say, they have good reason. Le Grand Jeu and all that. Besides, Bastien's mistress has direct ties to Celene." Another chuckle escaped her and she shook her head. "Thank the Maker that Mama has no patience for the Game. She couldn't have picked a worse person to ask."

Elizabeth stared at her, her own face breaking into an astonished smile. "And I suppose Father would be entirely aware of all this," she said.

Jane nodded. "Oh, he's going to be the death of that poor woman."

"Who can the surprise guest be then?" Elizabeth wondered aloud, looking at the floor.

"The what?" Jane asked.

"Father wrote ahead that he's bringing back a surprise guest," Elizabeth replied. "If it's not Gaspard…" She trailed off, shrugging.

"Knowing Father, it'll be that Mabari Lydia always wanted," Jane said. "Can you imagine the look on her face?"

Elizabeth could imagine it very well. "If he does, we could name it Gaspard," she suggested, and they both burst out laughing.

Once they had recovered, Elizabeth stood and shook her head. "Well, we still need to convince Mama to call off this ridiculous plan of hers."

"We shouldn't bother," Jane replied, sitting up. "You know how Mama is. If I tell her I'm against it, she'll only become more determined. It's better to just let her grow tired of it."

Elizabeth frowned. "But what if she actually manages to reach him and he gets the wrong idea? You're the Herald now. I'm sure a dozen men would line up to claim your hand tomorrow, if Mama was offering."

"Father will keep her in line," Jane said. "Honestly, it's probably for the best. At least with her mind on Gaspard, she won't be offering my hand to every bachelor with noble blood between the ages of sixteen and ninety."

"I suppose so," Elizabeth said doubtfully.

Jane stood, walking over to the vanity to check her braid. "If it makes you feel better, I'll speak with Josephine when we return and have her spread the word that I am not spoken for, and that if anyone wishes to make any offers, they need to go through the Inquisition, not my family."

Elizabeth relented. "That would make me feel better," she admitted. "Although it may result in-"

A knock on the door interrupted her, and Doris poked her head in. "My ladies? Your presence is requested in the dining room."

"Thank you, Doris," Jane said, straightening. She offered her sister a smile. "Shall we?"

* * *

Dinner was not as painful as Elizabeth had anticipated. Kitty and Lydia were visiting a friend in the village, so it was just the five Inquisition members, Lady Trevelyan, and Mary. Elizabeth's mother only mentioned Gaspard's eligibility a handful of times before Varric noticed the sisters' discomfort and began telling stories about the Champion of Kirkwall. Solas remained completely silent. Elizabeth tried to steer the conversation toward Nevarran nobility early on, knowing that it would keep her mother entertained for the better part of an hour; Cassandra, however, was tight-lipped about her upbringing, so Elizabeth satisfied herself with listening and drinking.

"Thank the Maker for Varric Tethras," she said two hours later, leaning heavily against Jane's bedroom door. "And for wine ."

Jane scoffed as she removed her dress. "You won't be thankful for that come morning."

"You don't think I can handle a few glasses of wine without a hangover?" Elizabeth asked, placing a hand over her heart. "You wound me, Herald of Andraste."

Jane winced. "Don't call me that."

"As the lady wishes," Elizabeth replied, stretching with a yawn. She picked up her nightgown from where it was folded on the dresser. "I must admit, it will be nice to sleep in a bed again." They both finished dressing, and then Jane burrowed beneath the blankets as Elizabeth blew out the candles. She summoned a tiny flame in her hand to guide herself to the bed.

"You've been doing that more frequently," Jane said quietly, pulling the blanket beneath her chin as she watched it burn.

"What, magic?" Elizabeth asked, extinguishing the flame and climbing into the bed. "I should hope so. You've been trying to get yourself killed more often. It's the least I can do."

"But even outside of fighting, I mean."

Elizabeth made a noncommittal noise in response. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to discuss her sudden rebellious streak with Jane, knowing it would just make her sister worry, and she certainly didn't want Jane knowing beforehand if she was planning to become a full-on apostate once the Circles returned.

A flutter of panic rose in her chest, but before she could follow that train of thought, she heard her sister say her name. She rolled on her side to face Jane in the darkness.

"I have a question," Jane whispered. There was a moment of silence.

Elizabeth felt her lips curl into a fond smile. "Are you going to ask it?"

"It's a little personal," her sister explained. Elizabeth couldn't see anything, but she knew from the silence that Jane was playing with her braid. "I don't want to upset you."

"Jane, you can ask me anything."

The bed creaked as Jane shifted. "It's about Mattrin. If it's too soon..."

Elizabeth's smile faded, but she kept her voice neutral. "No, I don't mind. What's your question?"

"Ellendra said that he stopped taking lyrium," Jane said. "Is that how he died?"

"No," Elizabeth replied, then hesitated. "I mean, yes, in a manner of speaking." She sighed. "Mattrin was still going through withdrawal. He took his own life."

"That's awful," Jane whispered. "But then why would he-?" There was a short pause. "Lizzie, what happens to people who take lyrium?"

Elizabeth stared into the darkness, trying to make out the glint of her sister's eyes.

Jane didn't know.

Of course Jane didn't know. Knowing about templar habits would be useless to someone outside the Circle, as useless as it was for her to know which Orlesian nobles were on speaking terms.

"Oh," said Elizabeth. She realized now that Jane was not asking about Mattrin, not really. Her mouth felt very dry as she searched her mind for a place to begin, wishing she had not drunk so much wine at dinner. "I don't know everything, but it gives the templars powers. It's how they control us."

"So he didn't want to be a danger to Ellendra?" Jane guessed.

Elizabeth swallowed. "There are… other concerns," she admitted. "Eventually, the lyrium eats away at them. Older templars forget things and are easily confused. They become paranoid. Sometimes they become… cruel." She paused. "In the end, it kills them.

Her sister inhaled sharply. "Oh."

"I'm so sorry, Jane," Elizabeth said. "I thought you knew."

She felt Jane pull the blankets around her tightly. "How long does it take?"

"For templars in the Order, it takes decades. You see some old templars around a Circle, but never one over sixty or so. Those who leave the Order..." Elizabeth hesitated. "I think the Chantry controls the dosage for templars, so that they never take too much or too little, but ex-templars tend to… well, overdo it. Many of them begin losing their memories within a few years. Or they try to quit."

"And those who try to quit…" Jane began, her voice trailing off.

"Stopping can be very dangerous," Elizabeth explained after a moment. "People have terrible nightmares. They go mad, or they become despondent. Sometimes they fall ill. A few die."

She counted her heartbeats, waiting for her sister's reaction, until she heard Jane sigh. "Poor Cullen."

"Cullen has Cassandra," Elizabeth reminded her. "I'm sure his doses are the same as what he'd be taking in the Order."

"You don't think he's stopped, then?" Jane asked.

"No," Elizabeth replied. She reconsidered for a moment. "Well, maybe. But I've seen him train you. He doesn't fight like a man going through withdrawal. I… I really am sorry."

Jane sighed again. "Stop apologizing, Lizzie."

"I should have told you. I pushed you to like him, and you had no idea. I'm sorry that-"

"I already liked him," Jane replied firmly. "And don't make this about me."

"Still," Elizabeth began. "If you'd known-"

"No. I know now and I still like him. I'm not going to treat him any differently," Jane insisted. "I just… I didn't realize."

The sisters lay in silence after that. Despite the lump in her throat, the wine soon lulled Elizabeth into a deep sleep. Jane, however, stayed awake for several hours, staring past the shadows in her room.

* * *

Elizabeth awoke to the sound of rain drumming against Jane's window. To her annoyance, her sister had not been entirely wrong about the hangover, though she suspected her headache was as much from stress as it was from wine. She was surprised to see Jane was still asleep beside her. Usually, Jane was up at dawn, while Elizabeth could be left in bed until mid-morning if no one bothered her.

Then she recalled the previous night's conversation, and she looked at Jane sadly, knowing she must stayed awake half the night worrying about Cullen. She slipped out of bed to dress.

All of her clean clothing was back in her own room, so she pulled something out of her sister's closet instead. Jane was a similar size to Elizabeth, but several inches taller, and she had to hitch the skirt to ensure it didn't drag on the floor.

Voices floated up from the parlor, where the family often took their morning meal, and she was alarmed to hear that one of them belonged to Lady Trevelyan. She hurried down to find her mother and their three guests at the table, with Mary standing by the window with a cup of tea.

"Lizzie!" Lady Trevelyan exclaimed. "We were just discussing waking you. Your friends are very eager to get to Longbourn village this morning."

Elizabeth glanced out the window, frowning. The village was a three mile walk away and in this weather, it would hardly be a pleasant trip.

"The Herald is still asleep?" Cassandra asked.

"'The Herald!'" Lady Trevelyan trilled cheerfully, clapping her hands together. Silence fell around the table, and it appeared Varric was only barely containing his laughter. He coughed noisily into his hand.

"She is," Elizabeth said, feeling her cheeks flush. "I don't think she slept very well last night." She looked at Cassandra. "Should I go wake her?"

Her mother looked horrified by the idea. "No, Lizzie! Jane's been so busy lately. Surely she can sleep in if she needs it."

Cassandra's lips thinned. "My lady, as I have mentioned, multiple times, our business with Warden Blackwall is urgent. Leliana will expect a raven by this afternoon. We cannot delay ourselves-"

"Oh, don't let Jane stop you!" Lady Trevelyan said, waving her hand. "She can rest here while you and the others go down to Longbourn village to meet with the Warden." She shook her head dramatically. "You know, it would probably be safer for Jane that way, the poor dear. Kitty and Lydia tell me that some people in the village agree with the Chantry about her new title, and quite violently at that! I wouldn't want her to have to deal with them ."

Elizabeth found herself agreeing with her mother, knowing as she did that Jane was probably exhausted. She looked around the table, wondering if anyone would object.

"But Blackwall said he wanted to speak to Jane personally ," Mary said, turning from the window with a frown. Elizabeth heard the hard edge of a whine in her voice and grimaced. Mary was usually the most tolerable of her younger sisters, but she was prone to childish moods, and of course it would be Elizabeth's luck that today would produce one of them.

Lady Trevelyan hummed to herself thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you can invite him here for dinner tonight. Cook is making fish, and I'm sure there will be enough for ten."

The others exchanged a few glances and Solas shrugged at Cassandra.

"I suppose the Herald should sleep while she can," Cassandra admitted slowly. "Very well. We will depart for the village as soon as possible."

* * *

"This weather is dreadful," Mary complained to Elizabeth as they waited for the others under Longbourn's overhang. Sheets of rain made patterns in the air around them, vaguely reminding Elizabeth of the Veil. "We're going to get soaked."

"No, we won't," Elizabeth said, speaking loudly to be heard over the rain. She stepped out and raised a dome barrier with a smile. The water trickled and bounced off it. "You've got two mages with you, remember?"

Mary grunted, eyeing the barrier warily. "Don't remind me."

Elizabeth stepped back under the roof and dropped the barrier with a smirk. "Really, Mary, I thought you'd be happy to see 'magic serving man' and all that," she said, a note of teasing in her voice. Her sister made another noise, staring off in the distance and Elizabeth sighed, giving up on improving her mood.

The others appeared shortly thereafter. She raised the barrier again-ignoring Mary's pursed lips-and they set off. She wasn't surprised when her sister began to ask Cassandra about Divine Justinia as they exited the estate, though over the sound of the rain, she could barely hear what they were saying.

"That is a waste of mana," Solas told her as he fell into step with her and Varric. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he lifted his own hand, creating an invisible flat surface several feet above them. His barrier was smaller than hers and looked easier to control, but still covered the whole party.

Elizabeth stuck her chin in the air and waved away her dome. "Very well, apostate. You win this round."

Solas chuckled. "What do they teach you in the Circle, anyway?"

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh, many things. Music, singing, drawing, dancing…"

"I meant in the study of magic," Solas said dryly.

"Magic?" Elizabeth said, feigning innocence. "I assure you, we do extensive reading on the subject."

Solas narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not being serious," he realized.

Elizabeth dropped the act and smiled. "The alternative seemed to be getting into a heated debate about Circle politics in front of my devout sister and a Seeker of Truth. I'll pass."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Varric asked.

"You hung out with a blood mage for years," she said, twisting her head toward him. "I'm not worried about losing your good opinion."

Solas looked at them both with some surprise. "A blood mage?"

"One of the mages in Kirkwall," Elizabeth said.

"All of the mages in Kirkwall," Varric muttered.

Elizabeth laughed. "True. I guess by the end the Champion was the only mage you knew in Kirkwall who didn't use blood magic."

"Actually, that honor goes to Anders," Varric said in a manner that implied he'd already thought of this. "Proof that the universe has a weird sense of humor." Elizabeth looked at him curiously, and under the weight of her gaze, his expression shifted. After a beat, he smiled at her. "And yeah, Hawke, of course. But that goes without saying."

Up ahead, Mary and Cassandra had slowed down enough that she could hear part of their conversation. Elizabeth tore her eyes from Varric's face, making a mental note to talk to him later.

"So, you are training to become a Grey Warden?" Cassandra asked.

Mary scowled. "I wish," she replied. "Father is making me 'consider the idea' for a whole year before he lets me join."

"Honestly, it's not bad advice, Mary," Elizabeth said. "Not many people join the Wardens by choice. There's a reason for that."

"Blackwall did," Mary replied bitterly. "And I'm a grown woman. I could run off and join now if I wanted to. He's just lucky I'd prefer to do it with his blessing."

"I'm sure your father wants to make sure you do not have regrets later," Cassandra said.

Mary rolled her eyes. "I'd be a hero. What's there to regret?"

"Many things," Solas replied. "Your life would never be yours again, not truly. The Wardens give up everything to stop the Blight. It's commendable, but it is also dangerous."

"Well, at least someone does something to stop the Blight," Mary said.

"Yes," Solas said. "A pity they do it so badly."

Mary stopped short, opening her mouth in outrage. Elizabeth rubbed her temples as her headache returned with a vengeance. She found herself wishing she'd gotten into that heated debate about Circle politics.

"Maybe not the time, Chuckles," Varric said in a sing-song voice.

Mary looked at her sister incredulously. "Forget it," she said. "I'm not bringing someone who talks about the Grey Wardens like that to Blackwall."

"Solas won't say anything to him," Elizabeth said, wishing she felt as sure about that as she sounded. "And Blackwall isn't twelve, Mary. Even if Solas did say something, I'm sure he could handle it."

"I'm not twelve either," Mary retorted, crossing her arms.

Elizabeth sighed. "I know that."

"As it happens, I have great respect for Warden Blackwall," Solas interjected. "I may not approve of his organization, but his actions have proven him to be a fair and honorable man. I would not insult such a person." Mary continued to glower at him.

"If you would like, Solas can wait outside," Cassandra suggested finally.

Solas frowned, but after half a second, he nodded. "Very well."

"See?" Elizabeth said to her sister, relief evident in her voice. She linked arms with Mary and began pulling her along the path again. "Now come on."

The group walked in silence for a moment.

Mary looked back at Solas. "How are you so familiar with the Warden anyway?"

Solas answered without hesitation. "I've come across echoes of his actions while walking the Fade."

Mary froze again, her face becoming pale as she stared at him, horrified. "Walking the Fade?" she sputtered.

"He meant while he sleeps," Elizabeth said, though that did not seem to comfort her sister at all. She tugged on Mary's stiff arm and they began to move forward again. "Come on, Mary, we're almost at the village."

* * *

Blackwall lived in a rented room off the local tavern and inn, an old building called The Merry Hart. Elizabeth had never been inside, but she'd heard about it from her youngest sisters. In the years she'd lived at Longbourn, there had been a near-weekly argument between Lydia and her parents about whether or not she was old enough to visit the tavern on her own.

Under Mary's glare, Solas began to retreat to a small table in the back corner.

Varric glanced at the stairs and then back at the table. "Don't worry, I'll keep you company, Chuckles."

"With only the purest of intentions, I assume," Solas replied.

Varric grinned. "I wouldn't say no to an ale, if that's what you're suggesting." Cassandra rolled her eyes.

Mary led the rest of them up the stairs to the row of rooms on the second floor. She knocked at the first door and waited. It opened a moment later, a bearded man in a gray doublet emerging. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

"Lady Mary," Blackwall said with a curt nod. "Good to see you." He looked at Cassandra. "Seeker Pentaghast." Then his gaze slid to Elizabeth, glancing at her hair before falling to her left hand. "And the Herald of Andraste, I presume?"

Elizabeth started. "Oh! No. Sorry, Jane wasn't able to make it. I'm Elizabeth. One of Mary's other sisters."

Blackwall chuckled. "Yes, I could tell by the hair that you're a Trevelyan." He straightened. and waved his hand toward his room. "Come in." The three women filed in and he shut the door.

Cassandra rounded to face him. "We are searching for any information we can find about your fellow Grey Wardens."

"So Mary mentioned," Blackwall said, sitting on his bed. There were two chairs facing him, and Elizabeth and Mary each took one, while Cassandra leaned against the windowsill, crossing her arms. "I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of news for you." He shrugged. "After Ostagar, we're all a little wary of all staying in the same place, as you can imagine."

"Do you have people you could contact?" Cassandra asked.

"Aye," Blackwall said. "And I've contacted them. But I haven't received a response."

"I see," Cassandra said. She looked at him intently. "Before their disappearance, did you notice anything strange or unusual about your fellow Wardens' behavior?"

Blackwall gave her a wary frown. "Strange how?"

"Anything that would seem out of order. Any signs of- corruption, or possession, or magical influence."

He stared at her for a moment, confused. "What exactly do you think we did?" he asked.

Cassandra shifted. "We are concerned that the Grey Wardens may have been involved with the death of the Divine."

"What?" Mary exclaimed angrily.

"Maker's balls," Blackwall muttered, covering his face with his hand. He dropped it immediately. "Pardon the language."

"The timing of their disappearance is very suspicious," Cassandra said.

Mary glared at her sister. "You didn't tell me about this."

"We're not making accusations, Mary, we're just asking questions," Elizabeth replied. " Someone caused the explosion, and we have to follow up on every lead, or-"

"No," Mary replied, shaking her head. She stood. "This is ridiculous. I'm leaving."

"Mary, it's alright," Blackwall replied, but she'd already left, slamming the door behind her. He stood as well, facing the Seeker. "Look, I don't know where the Wardens are, but that isn't unusual. Blight's over, everyone goes their separate ways." He shook his head, one hand stroking his beard. "But I'll tell you one thing: No Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "And I am supposed to believe a man with your rank and background is unable find his own organization?"

"Believe what you want," Blackwall replied in a hard voice, folding his arms. "But with this war on, I can barely find ten people who know how to fight in this village, let alone another bloody Warden." His gaze darkened. "And I wouldn't throw stones in glass houses, Seeker. Last I heard, your whole peacekeeping organization was up in Rivain. Seems like a strange time to skip town, if you ask me."

To Elizabeth's surprise, Cassandra sighed and her shoulders relaxed. "I… do not disagree. I have wondered about that myself." Blackwall mirrored her, the tension in the room fading. She gave him a grim look. "I did not mean to offend you. Please understand that we must look into every lead. No matter how unlikely."

"I understand," he replied. "And I promise to let you know if I hear anything about the Wardens." Cassandra stared at him for a moment before she opened the door and left. Blackwall kept his arms folded and turned partially away from Elizabeth, lost in thought. She stood, watching him.

"I apologize for how that went," she said finally. "For what it's worth, Cassandra accused the Herald of causing the explosion the first time they met, as well."

Blackwall snorted, turning. He studied her face. "You're really not her?"

"No," Elizabeth replied, holding up her left hand. "No mark, I'm afraid."

"Right," Blackwall replied, nodding. "I've just heard the stories, so when Mary brought in a beautiful woman with blonde hair, I thought- well, you know."

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. "Beautiful?"

Blackwall's face fell. He dropped his gaze to the floor, looking like he desperately wanted to retreat. "I apologize, my lady. That was forward of me."

"I don't mind forward," Elizabeth replied, realizing a second too late that a flirtatious note had crept into her voice. Blackwall caught it and looked back up. She swallowed. "Mary said you wanted to meet Jane. If that's still the case, you're welcome to dinner tonight. At Longbourn, I mean."

Blackwall raised his eyebrows. "I would not turn down a chance to have dinner with you, my lady."

Elizabeth's lips twitched, a playful reply rising to them.

Then she remembered that she was a mage, and that this man was not, and that an uncertain future loomed before her, filled with templars and Circles and vials of blood.

She bit her tongue. The moment faded in the silence that followed, and several seconds passed before Blackwall cleared his throat and spoke again. "Though I'm not sure I have anything appropriate to wear to Longbourn estate."

She smiled. "We're Marchers. I assure you, what you're wearing is fine."

"If you're certain," Blackwall said. She turned to leave. "Wait." She stopped and he sighed, running a hand over his beard. "When your sister first mentioned the Inquisition was looking for me, I didn't expect-whatever this is. I thought you might need a Warden to help set things right. I told her I was planning to join you." He shrugged. "And with the rest of us missing, maybe you still need a Warden." He bowed his head slightly. "Tell the Herald that if that's the case, my blade is hers."

Elizabeth wasn't sure what sort of authority she held within the Inquisition, but she felt confident as she replied. "Then welcome to the Inquisition, Warden Blackwall. We're heading back to Haven in the morning." Their eyes met, and his crinkled as he returned her smile.


End file.
